


flying feels like falling (when i close my eyes)

by Caisin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Feels, Football | Soccer, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caisin/pseuds/Caisin
Summary: After a week with her mother, all Regina wants is a quiet plane ride home.  She certainly hadn't planned on her son recognizing the woman across the aisle as one of his favorite athletes of all time.Emma Swan has long believed that being on two professional soccer teams is all the family that she will ever need.  With a number of championships already under her belt and years remaining in her busy, fulfilling career, she hasn't felt anything missing from her life since she left her last foster home over a decade ago.  She never imagined that sitting next to a young fan and his fascinating mother could drastically alter her ideas of what a family can be.But surely a day of traveling together isn't enough time to begin to fall in love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reginamea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginamea/gifts).
  * Inspired by [flying feels like falling (when i close my eyes) // art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812304) by [reginamea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginamea/pseuds/reginamea). 



> a huge thank you to Reginamea for such lovely art that i adore and really helped with that final push to get this finished. and to the mods for once again absolutely blowing this out of the water. especially for the writing boot camp that happened this year that got me to write more in a week than i have since i was in college, and it didn't even require a deadline! Bailey, Swati, and Mari have given this so much of themselves <3
> 
> the biggest thanks in the world to Pleth who made the tweet that inspired this whole thing and kept being there for me to throw ideas around with, and Sam who kept pushing me and believing in me and told me she loved this when i just wanted to give up. and Gutsy for making sure i was actually writing when i said i would. and honestly, all of my twitter friends cuz apparently a supernova fic is like a child and a village is needed.
> 
> the title comes from Marian Call's song, Flying Feels Like.
> 
> finally, i apologize if anyone reading this is a Utah FC fan. i promise they still exist in this universe. their name was just far too perfect to resist using for my own purposes.

Their flight hasn't been in the air for more than half an hour and Regina can't keep track of the number of times her concentration has slipped already.  She has flipped through the plane's magazine, opened and closed both of the novels she brought with her. A document from work has kept her focus for a solid ten minutes.  Except her eyes haven't made it past the first three lines of this page in at least a minute.

 

Huffing, she sets the stuffed folder onto the tray table with more force than is probably necessary and contemplates getting her laptop out to check email.  She knows she's breaking Henry's rule of no work over the holiday - she argues to herself the the plane ride home shouldn't count, but saying so out loud would earn her a stern glare that she has never appreciated being on the receiving end of - so she turns to see if he has noticed her change in reading material.

 

When they got on the plane, she had hoped they could use the six hour flight to spend some uninterrupted time together.  He may have also made her promise not to obsess over her mother, but surely the two of them talking about the trip and processing together couldn't hurt.

 

He dove straight into his copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream as soon as he reached his seat though, and had left her to her own devices.

 

Now he's fidgeting restlessly in his chair, turned at an odd angle so that he's almost facing her.  He has a look of wonder on his face that he gets sometimes when he's at a point in a book that fascinates him and reading becomes easier.  Except his eyes are clearly looking well above the page. Looking beyond her.

 

She looks over her shoulder and sees a gorgeous blonde sitting across the aisle, reading her own book and thankfully completely oblivious of the conflict happening mere feet away.  She only looks for a moment - a flash of golden hair and red fabric - before she's rolling her eyes. This is the part of adolescence she's been dreading the most. No one appreciates being ogled by teenage boys.

 

"How's the play?" she asks.

 

"Fine," he says quickly.  His mouth snaps shut and he scoots back in his seat, his knees coming up so he can rest his arms on them.  Regina has no idea how the position could possibly be comfortable.

 

"Do you need anything?"

 

"Nope," he says.  He takes one last look at the woman across from them before holding the book up to block his face from his mother's view.

 

"Stop staring," she whispers.

 

She glares at him a bit, but it does no good since his book seems to have his attention again.  She sighs and goes to grab the folder containing the plans to redevelop the harbor. Before she has set a hand on it, Henry whispers back, "Read your book."

 

Looking over to see him glaring into his book, Regina snorts.  She should have known her disobedience hadn't gone unnoticed.

 

As she shuffles through her bag, putting the folder back and pulling out the novel that has more of a chance at holding her attention, she steals another glance at the woman across the aisle.

 

She is very pretty, in that athletic way that Regina has begun to realize she appreciates far more on women than she does men.  There's still a softness to her face even with her lean features that Regina finds cute. And it's difficult to tell with the bulky grey peacoat obscuring her view, but Regina can't help thinking she must have well toned arms underneath.

 

Even first class seats are uncomfortable after too long sitting in one position in a confining skirt, there's no reason to think any discomfort may come from her body's reaction some pretty young blonde.  The thought crossing her mind is absurd enough for Regina to roll her eyes at herself. Never mind the fact that it's been over three years since she's had a date beyond some sort of town function. Never mind the fact that most of the lovers that she had managed to find in the last several years had been lacking, if she's being generous.

 

It had been difficult to date while she was a single working mother.  Being a single mother who is also the mayor of a town that is far too small for its own good?  Well...

 

She wiggles in her seat for a moment, telling herself she's trying to align her spine properly, and tries once again to get swept up into her book.

 

***

 

"Henry Daniel Mills."  She glares when she looks over at him this time.  He can say nothing is going on until he's out of breath but that's far from the truth.  Especially when she sees him place his phone back in his lap. Slowly, as if that will keep her from noticing that he was about to use it.  "I know I taught you not to stare at people. And certainly not beautiful women on planes."

 

"Sorry."

 

He lowers his head in the face of being scolded, only now seeing how his (probably innocent) actions must look.  He looks up, his face flush and a little sheepish, and she knows he means it.

 

"Were you -" she begins with a hiss, but quickly cuts herself off.  Being angry with him isn't going to help. In fact, she knows that him feeling ashamed means her anger will only hurt matters.  She takes a deep breath to begin again. Calm. "Did you really think taking a picture of a woman you don't know, without her knowledge, was a good thing to do?"

 

He shakes his head.  "I wasn't thinking," he says in a low voice.  She's not sure if the mumbling is out of shame or embarrassment.

 

"That much was very clear."  She sighs and places her hand under his chin, lifting his face so she can see him better.  If his pout goes any deeper, she worries she'll never see his top lip again. Hoping he'll open up a bit more if he sees she's not going to yell at him or anything, she gives him a small, compassionate smile.  "Would you like to tell me what all this is about?"

 

"No."

 

She lowers her hand and turns in her seat to give them both a moment.  Glances at the woman who has Henry in a tizzy.

 

She doesn't get it.

 

It's been years since Henry has acted out, and even then, it was rarely without reason.  They have both gotten notably better at being honest with each other when something is wrong.  How did things go so suddenly from that to him attempting to take sneaky pictures of strange women in public?  Has she missed something?

 

Her mother's words seep into her.  She can feel their vileness clog her pores and run through her blood like poison.  'I can't believe you would allow my own grandson to attend public school,' she had said one night after Henry had gone to bed, her voice low and quiet and slicing through Regina without the need of force.  'I did so much, sacrificed so much of myself, to make sure that you and your sister always had the best education possible. How dare you, Regina. Sending him to a pauper's school like some common street urchin.  Who knows what kind of children he's sitting next to every day? You might as well spit on everything your father and I did for you.'

 

There's a small, sneering part of her mind that tells her that her mother is right.  That she has ruined everything in her need to prove she trusted the town's public education system.

 

She stomps it out quickly, resolved, and turns back to her son.

 

"You are aware that isn't an option right now, yes?"

 

He nods.  This time his muttering is too quiet for her to make out.

 

"Come again?"

 

"You'll think it's stupid," he says.  His entire being sags with his belief that she will. She fights the urge to hug him.

 

"I never think anything about you is stupid, sweetheart," she says.  More than anything, she prays he knows that is true. His helpless little shrug makes her heart sink further.  "Whatever this is, I promise not to make fun of you for it. Even if I don't understand."

 

Which throws him off, as she thought it might.  She can tell when her son is about to play the 'you won't understand' card.

 

"That's Emma Swan, Mom!" he says after a moment to collect his courage.  His excitement rushes back so fast that it takes her by surprise.

 

He rolls his eyes at her lack of recognition.  Her mother would say he's being disrespectful - and indeed scolded both of them for the one time he slipped up and did it in front of her last week - but Regina has only grown more fond of it over the years.

 

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

 

"Then enlighten me."

 

His eyes light up at the challenge; always eager to teach his mother something new.  His annoyance at her ignorance evaporates.

 

It's not unusual for children to fixate on certain subjects.  Most people go through obsessions with dinosaurs and comic books and ancient Egypt.  Henry picked up her own love for horses when he was young. It had taken her a while to get over her sadness when he asked her to store his collection of little carousels and most of his stuffed horses, though she's grateful that a well loved Rocinante remains at the foot of his bed.  And while things like a fascination with the state of New Mexico, geology, and a surprisingly painful obsession with fairytales and Disney princesses have come and gone, one thing has remained a constant since he was seven years old.

 

Soccer.  Specifically, US women's soccer.  His grandfather and aunt tried for years to get him into Mexican and European professional leagues, but he remained resolute in his loyalties, and Regina doesn't think that will change any time soon.  Not while his best friends are the girls he started playing with when he first joined the kiddie league at any rate. Not that Regina would ever attempt to switch his interests to something 'more in line with his gender' when she remembers so clearly how detrimental that can be.

 

It's only that she never realized until now, as he lists off Emma Swan's personal stats and achievements to date with great enthusiasm, that he had such love for a single player.  There are championship games and winning goals and score records and World Cup victories.

 

“She got to meet President Obama!” comes out a little too loudly, but his eyes are filled with so much awe that she can’t bring herself to quiet him.

 

There's a break in his chatter as an announcement comes on that flight attendants are about to start the flight's drink service.  Regina takes the opportunity to look over at the subject of their conversation. Henry has never been very good with volume when he gets excited about something, but Regina noticed earlier that Emma is wearing earbuds.  If the blush that has climbed up the poor woman's neck and ears is anything to go by however, she's aware they're talking about her.

 

As sorry as she feels for making this woman uncomfortable, Regina can't help a slight smirk as Emma does her best to look at her book and act unaffected.  

 

That is, until Emma's eyes flick up from her book and catch Regina watching her.  Regina feels her own face heat up as playful green eyes meet hers. She thinks she catches a hint of smile on thin lips in her rush to look away, but she lays a hand on Henry's knee as he starts up again, urging him to be a little more quiet as he tells her all about Emma injuring her ankle in the Rio Olympics.

 

***

 

Regina doesn’t think anything of Henry’s request to get out of his seat to use the restroom.  They have been in the air for almost three hours and he’s had an entire can of soda plus a great deal of water.  Her son has a notoriously small bladder and lacks her unease around airplane toilets.

 

The trouble is that it takes her a moment too long to realize when he returns to their row.  Then it’s too late for her to intervene on behalf of the poor woman across from her.

 

“Are you Emma Swan?” Henry is asking before Regina even notices he’s back.

 

“Henry,” she says firmly, her voice a warning as she turns in her seat.  She does her best not to think about the looks they’re probably getting from the other first class passengers.

 

What is curious is that, while the woman - this Emma Swan, if Henry is correct - looks weary and a bit confused at first, it only takes a couple of seconds for her face to change completely.  She smiles up at Henry like he’s an old friend she has been hoping to see.

 

“That would be me,” she says.  Her smile only grows brighter as Henry beams that he’d been correct.  There’s a spark of delight in her green eyes that has Regina sucking in a deep breath.  “And you are?”

 

“Henry.”

 

He sticks out a hand automatically, a reflex after years of being the mayor’s son.  Emma’s smile goes lopsided as she takes it, shaking hands firmly.

 

“That’s a great name.  I heard you’re a fan?”

 

She says it like she and Regina have been talking in the few minutes he was out of his seat.  Color blooms across Henry’s neck, realizing only then that he must have spoken loud enough for her to hear.

 

“I’m sorry, I -”

 

“Please, don’t apologize,” Emma says, quick to soothe.  Her hands dart out to him but stop halfway, wanting to comfort but unsure of touching a fan when it’s not requested.  They end up back on the armrest, fidgeting with the edge. “It’s always nice to be reminded of your achievements after a poor season like I just had.”

 

Shoulders slump for a moment, but he bounces back before Regina can begin to frown.

 

“What was it like meeting the president?”

 

A burst of laughter escapes Regina, this being her son’s first question overriding most of the anxiety building up in the past minute.  Emma’s lip twitch as she holds back her own laugh.

 

“He was pretty cool, Kid,” she says.  Her eyes meet Regina’s for the first time and they share a smile over Henry’s shoulder.  “The First Lady was even cooler though. She took us on a tour of the White House, talked to us for ages about sports and education.  She’s one of the smartest women I’ve ever met. I never imagined playing soccer would mean getting to spend time with someone like her.”

 

“Wow,” is all Henry can say.  

 

“Henry, let Miss Swan get back to her reading,” Regina says.  As much as it pains her to cut this short for him, she’s all too aware that they’re encroaching on a professional athlete’s private time in a space where she might find it difficult to say no to a young fan.  

 

She expects Henry’s pout when he turns to her, but Emma’s frown is a surprise.  She thought she would see a grateful smile or nod. The combination of frown and pout is not something she is prepared for.  It leaves her feeling a little unbalanced where she felt so sure of herself a moment before.

 

The sympathetic smile meant to soften the blow to Henry falters on her lips.

 

“I don’t want us to be a bother,” she says, unsure of herself enough at this point that it almost comes out as a question.

 

“It’s not a bother at all!” Emma says.  Her eyes are wide and a hand comes up, eager to reassure.  She looks between mother and son. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips as she gathers her courage for something.

 

“Actually, I was wondering,” her eyes flick over to Henry before staying on Regina.  “If it’s okay with you of course, I’d really enjoy talking to your son more? I don’t get opportunities like this often, but I love talking to fans one on one.  Get to know them and find out why they love soccer and stuff, you know?”

 

“Really?”

 

Henry’s eyes dart between them now, then there’s two sets of hopeful eyes trained on her.  It’s far worse than the sad looks earlier.

 

“You can say no of course,” Emma says.  The way her lips turn down a moment later shows Regina that she realizes that turning down the offer while Henry is standing right there isn’t quite the option she thinks it is.  A shrugged apology follows.

 

Regina is glad that she didn’t want to turn her down, even if the situation still feels odd to her.

 

“Please, Mom?  You could just switch seats for a while?”

 

“You’re sure this is how you want to spend your flight?” Regina asks Emma.

 

Emma’s excited nodding has Regina smiling again.

 

“It will certainly beat trying to read a book I can’t seem to get into,” she promises.

 

“Alright then,” Regina says.  She nods, mostly to reassure herself that this is a good idea.  “Let’s switch seats.”

 

***

 

“You’re reading Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Emma asks as soon as she sits down.  “Is it any good?”

 

Regina takes a deep breath as she gets comfortable in her new seat and pulls out her laptop.

 

“It’s alright.  Not as good as it was this summer,” Henry sighs.  He puts the book in his bag and turns to give Emma his full attention.  “Mom knew I’d have to read it this year, so she pulled out her big fancy copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare and every day for a couple of weeks we read it together.  We split up the characters in the scene and kind of acted it out. Now it’s a bunch of words that don’t really make sense and I have to try to find themes and things.”

 

It’s not that Regina is anxious about what is going on next to her really.  Henry is old enough now that she is getting better at trusting his judgement.  And anyone who can get him to talk about his class readings has her support.

 

“I wish I’d thought to read Shakespeare like that when I was in school,” Emma says.  “I probably would have learned to enjoy it a lot sooner.”

 

That nagging voice in the back of her head won’t quiet though.  The one that tells her that if she were a better mother, she would not even contemplate letting her son spend time on his own with a person she knows nothing about.

 

“Your mom seems like the kind who’d be great at voicing all the characters.”

 

So the laptop comes out.  Because a brain that is busy with irritating work emails can’t obsess over the son who is sitting only feet away from her.  Because she can put on one of her favorite distracting playlists and stop eavesdropping on their conversation. Because…

 

“She loves doing that,” Henry says.  He laughs and peeks over at Regina, sticking his tongue out.  It gets her to take a calming breath. “Except when she decides to do British accents.  Then all the characters sound like my aunt.”

 

Feeling all her anxiety slip away, Regina sticks her tongue out right back.  Just in time for Emma to look over at her, of course, but her eyes light up as she looks back and forth between mother and son with glee.  It brings a smile to Regina’s lips.

 

“We’ll try to avoid making fun of you,” Emma promises.

 

Regina waves her off.

 

“Don’t let me interfere any more with your chat,” she says.

 

Her earbuds in place, Ella Fitzgerald’s comforting voice flows through her.  With one last glance at the pair chatting away, Regina opens a tab away from her email.  The Google homescreen looks back at her.

 

She swears to herself that she won’t go down the Google rabbithole and learn about Emma’s entire life.  Doing so seems like a strange invasion of privacy with the woman sitting right there.

 

But surely a quick image search wouldn’t be invasive. Just to make sure Emma is this person she and Henry claim.  Just to calm these nagging thoughts.

 

The search loads with a row of photographs of Emma standing in uniform, blues and whites and reds.  There is no doubt that it is the woman only an arm’s reach away from her. She is right there in front of Regina as well; smiling and posing in some pictures, serious in others.  Her face focused on something happening on the field. Her hair whipping behind her in a ponytail as she runs.

 

Regina gulps at those impressive thighs.

 

Her eyes flit over to the Emma not on her computer.  All of her attention is on Henry, her body turned toward him as he chats away.  Neither of them can see what Regina is looking at so intently, but she turns her screen further away from them anyway.

 

Then she scrolls quickly past the photograph that had her heart beating faster.

 

Which is a mistake, of course.

 

Only a couple of rows down, there is a image that has her gulping again, as well as shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

 

Like any other female soccer fan old enough to remember the 1999 World Cup, Regina has fond memories of Brandi Chastain whipping off her jersey after scoring that final penalty kick.  Like most other young queer girls at the time, the moment had been a bit of an awakening.

 

And seeing this picture of Emma Swan doing her own celebration feels like another awakening.

 

If Emma is as prolific in her goal scoring as Henry says, Regina is sure she must have all sorts of ways she enjoys celebrating her goals.  This particular one happens to have her jersey flipped up over her head, a red sports bra and firm abs on full display, her arms outstretched as she slides on her shins across the grass.  The red cleats that appear in every other full body shot Regina has seen so far are visible against dark shorts.

 

Clicking on the thumbnail to see the picture in its original size is most likely another mistake, but Regina does it away.

 

A moment later, she gets to see Emma Swan’s sweaty abs in all their high definition glory.  She bites her lip as her eyes linger over each tantalizing bit of Emma on display. In the thumbnail, Regina hadn’t noticed how her shorts are being tugged up her thighs as she slides.

 

As her cursor hovers over the image, she sees she could zoom in even farther if she liked.  She sucks in a breath at the thought. Tries to fight the urge to do so.

 

She glances over at the woman sitting in her seat.  She reminds herself that this is a real person who is _right there_.  And as she does, Emma turns her head and smiles brightly at her.

 

Did she come up in their conversation again?  Is it possible that she has turned into such a mess that Emma heard her heavy breathing?  Or can Emma tell that she’s using her computer to look up things that are giving Regina incredibly inappropriate thoughts about her?

 

Whatever her reasons, Emma’s smile turns into a look of concern and Regina is certain that her face is giving everything away.

 

Never one to be easily embarrassed, Regina does her best to fight down her body’s desire to blush.  She exits out of the offending image search tabs fast enough that it leaves her feeling like a teenager caught looking at porn, and opens up a random email.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, it looks like Emma might be about to ask her if she’s alright, but she’s pulled away again by something Henry says before the question leaves her lips.

 

Bless her son’s wonderful timing.

 

Regina lets out a slow, calming breath.

 

 _So much for not invading her privacy_ , she thinks irritably, rolling her eyes at herself.

 

***

 

She has gotten through a good chunk of her inbox when she removes an earbud just in time to hear Henry say, “We didn’t even make it into next year’s World Cup because men’s soccer in the US is terrible.  Besides, even in the rest of the world, it’s all bad dives and theatrics half the time. Who wants to look for role models there when women’s soccer has become such a beautiful game?”

 

Then Emma lets out a laugh, head tipped back and shoulders shaking, and says, “That’s the truth kid, and you should say it.”

 

“You did that meme wrong,” Henry says through a bout of giggles.

 

“Oh please, I’m a millennial, playing fast and loose with memes is what we do.”  She huffs. “Of course, most of the team would agree with you, but that's because they're not hip with meme culture. Mulan says I spent too much time on twitter while I was out with my ankle injury.”

 

“Mulan is so cool,” Henry says in an awed tone.  Regina can perfectly imagine his starry eyed look.  “It was awesome getting to see you two play together again in the league.”

 

“It’s been nice not having to play against her.  It’s especially challenging to go up against someone you’ve played with for over ten years.  She knows all my tricks,” Emma says, a bit wistfully. “Of course, it would have been nicer if we hadn’t completely bombed last season.”

 

“You were also the oldest team in the league last season, and with all those injuries in the midfield, it was like,” he pauses and Regina imagines his adorable scrunched up face as he tries to figure out his words. “You had to piece together a whole new team a couple of months in, but by the end of the season, everything was starting to come together.  I was sad you didn’t make it to the playoffs, your last few games were great to watch.”

 

“You went to our games?” Emma asks as if the idea is completely unbelievable.

 

“No,” he sighs, making Regina suddenly sad that she never had the time to take him to one.

 

At the time, scheduling in a six or seven hour round trip for a ninety minute game seemed like far too much of a hassle.  Regina frowns and silently vows that she’ll find the time next season. They could even make a weekend of it. She could schedule one of her out of town meetings around their home games and just take Henry with her as well.

 

A thirteen year old boy like Henry would be fine with a day on his own in a hotel.  And then at least someone would finally enjoy the luxury pool at the hotel she always uses while she’s in Boston.  She hasn’t taken Henry to Boston since he was very small and she isn’t quite sure why that is.

 

“Well, she’s not my coach,” Henry is saying by the time she’s done mentally mapping out their future mini vacation and she’s sure she missed something.  “She’s my friends’ coach, the friends I told you about earlier. She’s basically the coolest person I know, besides Tiana.”

 

“That’s one of your friends?”

 

“Yeah.  She’s a goalie and amazing at directing her defense.  Our goalie isn’t anywhere near as good at strategy as she is.  She shut out like, six games in a row this fall!”

 

“She sounds like a bamf.”

 

“She is!  I think she’ll probably end up on the national team some day.  Anyway,” he says, changing topics without even pausing to take a breath.  “I’m really hoping to get to a game next season. Maybe I can convince Mom this year.”

 

Regina smiles at his excitement, but when Emma says, “Yeah, I hope so too, kid,” there’s a sadness in her voice that Regina doesn’t understand.

 

***

 

“You think that’s what you’re gonna want to do?” Emma is asking the next time Regina switches her attention to them.

 

The in flight movie is far too boring.  It’s doing nothing to keep her mind from wandering where it isn’t supposed to go.  The only thing that seems to be countering the urge to obsess over every second of conversation with her mother is an unrelenting desire to further google the woman Henry continues to fawn over.  Which is just another thing she shouldn’t allow herself to do, if her last search was anything to go by.

 

Clearly eavesdropping is the best and safest option here.

 

“I don’t know.  I’m good at writing and I have a lot of fun figuring out how the game works, so maybe coaching?  Or something else connected to it? I love it and I love to play and I’m pretty good I guess. Mom’s really supportive, even when she can’t get to all the away games, but this week my grandma said that it’s a silly dream and that I should make real goals about getting a real job.”

 

And that’s all it takes for every promise Regina made with herself to not think about her mother to fly out the window because she has never wanted to throttle the woman more in her life.  Which is really saying something. She may have been able to control Regina’s life and all of her ambitions through childhood, but she had another thing coming if she thought for a second that Regina would let her do the same with her grandson.

 

“There are some choice words I have for people like your grandmother, but I don’t think your mom would appreciate me saying them around you,” is all Emma says for a while.  The words are a little strangled, coming through clenched teeth, leaving Regina with no doubt that she’s holding back. “There will always be people who think you should be more realistic, though it always sucks more when it’s family saying it.  But with stuff like this, you really have to say ‘screw those people,’ and keep pushing. You’re allowed to have dreams, and no matter how things turn out in the end, if you put the work in, those dreams can never be worthless. Got it, kid?”

 

“Got it.”

 

“And what your grandmother doesn’t realize, is that she’s given you the gift of spite.  Sometimes spite is the only thing that will keep pushing you to succeed when everything seems impossible.  I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s a hard job. Even though I love it. Even with all the great things it’s given me.  It’s a lot of hard work. You train all the time, especially after you’ve had an injury like mine, because once you’ve injured yourself it becomes that much easier to do it again.  But it’s worth it.”

 

There’s silence.  Regina wishes she could see the resolute look on her son’s face that she knows is there.  She wishes she could give Emma a hug for the things she’s just told him. She knows she’ll be giving Henry the longest, tightest hug he’ll allow her once they’re home, and then a good long talk about how she’s fought against his grandmother’s critical words over the years.

 

“So what does your average day look like?” he asks after taking a moment to soak in everything Emma told him.  Emma laughs, clearly delighted to see him jump right back up.

 

Deciding to leave them to what is sure to become a very detailed description of daily training and practice, Regina finally goes back to her formulaic, far too white and heterosexual romcom.  When she finds herself unable to stop smiling, she knows it has nothing to do with the movie. Never in her life has she felt more grateful for a complete stranger.

 

***

 

The in flight movie is nearing its climax when Regina senses someone standing next to her.  Emma Swan is smiling down at her when she pulls her attention away from the screen. Not that the movie was holding her attention any better now than the last time she was distracted by Emma’s mere presence.

 

She’s standing in the aisle now, one arm holding her weight as she leans into the overhead bins, the other tucking blonde hair behind her ear.  At some point while she while she was sitting with Henry, she had finally taken off her peacoat without Regina noticing.

 

Regina is definitely noticing now.

 

Tight jeans and the long-sleeved athletic shirt her coat had hidden cling to her body and Regina barely holds back from letting her eyes roam over every inch of it.

 

She does give into the temptation to linger over that arm flexed above her however.  Simply to confirm her earlier suspicions. Her insides flutter as her gaze trails up those biceps that seem to be just as buff as she had imagined, even under a shirt.

 

By the time she’s looking at Emma’s face again, the woman’s smile has turned into an outright grin.  Regina blushes at the smugness of it, knowing she’s been caught. Thankfully, Emma lets it slide.

 

“You have a pretty neat son,” she says instead.  Any lingering embarrassment vanishes at the praise.  Regina smiles back. “Very opinionated.”

 

It instantly goes onto the top of Regina’s favorite compliments regarding her son.  Which is interesting given how the same phrase had felt like an insult coming from her mother only days before.  But it would be difficult to find a woman more unlike her mother than Emma Swan. Perhaps that’s what makes the comment feel so precious now.

 

“I’m glad you think so, Miss Swan.”

 

Emma laughs and rolls her eyes, though Regina can’t imagine what she said might result in such a reaction.

 

“Please, I don’t think anyone has ever called me that unless they were offering an endorsement deal.  It’s just Emma,” she says. Green eyes twinkle with mirth as she smirks. “Or just Swan, but you don’t strike me as the type.”

 

“Are you implying that I don’t have the jock vibe, Emma?”

 

The low chuckle in combination with the once over Emma gives her brings that fluttering feeling right back.  

 

Her hands in her back pockets mean that her shrug comes off a little awkward.  It makes a cockiness that Regina would normally find offputting almost charming.  And Regina is surprised that she’s a little delighted by it. Certainly enough that she finds herself wanting to see what other gems this clumsy charm might lead to.

 

“I guess I’ll have to find out… Mrs…?”

 

It’s Regina’s turn to chuckle at that.  She holds out her hand. “Regina is fine,” she says as Emma takes it in a firm shake.  Regina thinks she would be content to not let go for some time. And the brain power that goes into that is the excuse she’ll use later when she asks herself why on earth she says, “It’s not Mrs. anything.”

 

Emma’s grin and the extra squeeze she gives Regina’s hand before letting go is worth the embarrassment.

 

“Um so…”  Her hand goes back to scratch her neck, at a loss for how to get to her point. She rocks back on her heels, bottom lip disappearing between her teeth, and it’s possibly the most adorable thing Regina has seen since Henry stopped wearing footie pajamas when he was eight.  Finally, she points her thumb casually over shoulder, to where Henry is making a big display of yawning. “The kid said that you might enjoy some company for a bit?”

 

***

 

“I hear you’re getting tired,” Regina says as she sits back down next to her son.  He looks up at her with sleepy eyes that still shine with the brightness of a young boy who just talked with his hero for a good long while.

 

“That was the greatest thing ever.  She’s so awesome, Mom.”

 

His grin makes the entire horrible week worth it.  She would spend every week with her mother if she knew each of them would end with Henry looking at her like this.  Though something tells her that constant Cora would begin to fatigue them eventually, no matter the outcome. And the day Henry doesn’t look ecstatic to spend time with Emma Swan would be a very sad day.

 

She leans in to brush away his bangs so she can kiss him on the forehead.  He doesn’t even grumble and it makes her lips turn into a smile against his skin.

 

“I’m so glad, sweetheart,” she whispers.  His yawn makes them both laugh. “I think you need a nap.  You don’t mind if I go keep Miss Swan company while you sleep, do you?”

 

Eyes flit over Regina’s face, inquisitive and searching in a way that Regina isn’t sure how to interpret.  She wonders for a moment if he feels weird about her leaving him by himself but then he rolls his eyes and her and grins broadly again.

 

“I think I can deal with napping while you sit a couple yards away from me.  Go have fun. Stop thinking about Grandma.” His certainty regarding her anxieties surprises her, as does his firm command.

 

She scoffs it off.

 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to mention her today,” she says with a smirk.  She kisses his head, but pauses as she turns in Emma’s direction and looks back at him with concern.  “Do you think you’ll get cold?”

 

He shrugs.  Regina sighs, because Henry has always complained about being cold when he falls asleep in the living room without a blanket.  So grabbing one from the overhead bin, she drapes it over him.

 

“I love you, Henry,” she says, leaving one last kiss on his forehead.  Which is apparently one too many. His face scrunches up and he wipes the feeling of the kiss off as she pulls away.

 

It’s surprising that the move no longer sends a pang of sadness through her.  It feels more like him becoming a teen who can only take so much motherly affection and less the result of a son who is pulling away because he thinks his mother is evil and couldn’t possibly love him.  And as much as she has always dreaded the age where she can no longer drown her precious baby boy in love, she can’t help being glad that they’ve gotten here. This only proves how much they have progressed these last three years.

 

He places his hand on top of hers where it sits on his arm rest and squeezes it while they smile at each other.

 

It fills her heart with warmth and she feels the sudden need to cry a little.

 

“I love you too, Mom.”

 

She will not cry.  She won’t allow it.  Not when she’s about to go sit with an international soccer star and talk about who knows what.

 

“Can I just…”  She’s not sure why she needs to show so much affection.  Except maybe it’s that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the things her mother told him.  She needs an immediate way to prove to him that she doesn’t agree with any of her mother’s opinions and this seems like the best way.  Her pause has him raising a skeptical eyebrow at her. It’s such a perfect mirror of her own that she wishes she had a picture of them side by side to show anyone who might believe he doesn’t take after her because they aren’t blood.  “Can I give you one more kiss?”

 

“Fine,” he says with every bit of teenaged displeasure he can fit into a single syllable.  She’s about to laugh and tell him it’s alright if he doesn’t want it, but before she can, he lowers his head to give her the only option he finds acceptable.

 

She laughs and kisses the top of his head.  Lets her lips rest on his hair for several seconds.  Breathes in his still pleasant boy smell. She’s grateful she convinced him to shower this morning before they left, but sad that it means he smells in part like Cora’s ridiculously fragrant shampoo.

 

“Oh my god, Mom.  You’re gonna be literally seven feet away from me.  You can stop acting like you’re sending me off to war or something.”

 

***

 

“I feel awful for not recognizing you,” Regina says not long after sitting down next to Emma.  It has eaten away at her since it became clear that this woman meant a great deal to Henry. It feels good to get it off her chest.

 

“You shouldn’t, honestly,” Emma says.  That slight smile that Regina is quickly becoming fond of is back.  “It’s not like men’s soccer, and even then, this is the US. We’re not exactly the pro athletes who get our faces plastered everywhere.”

 

Which is nice of her to say, but completely beside the point.

 

“You’re my son’s hero, Miss Swan.”

 

When she is met with a quirked up eyebrow, she rolls her eyes.

 

“Em-ma,” she corrects.  Except all that achieves in a wide eyed look from her companion.  Regina huffs and gestures towards her. “I’m sure all the other soccer moms would have recognized you instantly.  I don’t know what Henry told you about our life, but we’ve had our ups and downs, and the truth is, I’m still far too busy when I should be focusing more on him.”  She notices that her hands have begun trembling and brings them down to her lap quickly, taking a deep, calming breath in an attempt to gain control of her emotions.  “He’s always going over to other houses to watch games when he should be able to have friends come over. I should be able to share this with him.”

 

“I’m sure he understands the work thing,” Emma says, her face softened with far too much compassion.

 

“Did he tell you what I do?”

 

“No, he was very good about the not sharing personal information rule.”

 

Regina chuckles.  She glances over at her son and smiles at the sight of him already fast asleep, his head against the window.

 

“He seemed determined to go against it somehow, but I’m not sure I’ll ever find out what that was all about.”

 

“He did bring up being adopted,” Emma says after a moment of indecision over whether or not to mention it.  The statement has Regina confused. Even now that his adoption is something that Henry understands, even something they celebrate, it’s rarely something he talks about openly.  “Probably because I’ve talked publicly about growing up in the foster system.”

 

“You were adopted too?”

 

It’s something Henry failed to mention in his Introduction to Emma Swan lesson.  Suddenly his love for her makes even more sense.

 

“I never got that lucky,” she says.  Regina isn’t sure how to respond to that beyond laying her hand over Emma’s.  If Emma’s subdued smile is anything to go by, it was the right thing to do. “I did have a couple of families who were very good to me who I still keep in touch with.  I doubt I would have made it here without their support, but it’s nothing like Henry has with you. Just the little I’ve seen you two interact… that’s special.”

 

“I feel lucky to have him in my life,” Regina says, wistful, and it strikes her how rarely she gets to talk about him like this, when most of the town has known him since he was a toddler.  When most of the town cares more about her positions on The Issues than how this boy changed her life. “Becoming Henry’s mother is the best decision I have ever made.

 

“We’ve gotten through so much together, and he told me he was fine with me taking this job.  He said he was fine with me working these ridiculous hours, that he was old enough to be a little more independent and this was too important for me to give up.  He’s so _proud_ of me, which is the most amazing feeling in the world, but I don’t know,” she sighs and looks down where she’s pinching the base of her thumb, trying to hold back against the overwhelming feelings bubbling up.  “This past week is the most uninterrupted time we’ve spent together in almost three years and it required visiting my mother to make it happen. I don’t like not being able to focus on him.”

 

“What do you do?”

 

Regina looks up.  She had almost forgotten that someone else was there.  That the person she is pouring her heart out to is barely more than a complete stranger.  The shame of it heats her face.

 

“I’m a mayor.”

 

“You’re the mayor of Boston?”

 

And all of those bubbling feelings flow out of her at once in bright, genuine laughter.

 

She doesn’t mean to laugh at Emma’s expense, but the look on her face is priceless.  Eyes wide and a deep frown on her lips, she’s clearly trying to figure out how the woman sitting next to her has been the mayor of her city for the last couple of years without her realizing it.

 

The laugh releases all of that pent up frustration and shame and anxiety in one delightful rush.  It’s a wonderful feeling, but she does feel a little guilty when Emma’s confused frown turns into a wounded pout.  Regina brings her hand back up to pat the one that hasn’t left its position on the arm rest.

 

“Not Boston,” Regina says.  Laughter is still in her voice.  “It’s a small town. Tiny really.  Though my constituents are demanding enough that you’d think there was a large city’s worth of them.”

 

“Sounds like hell,” Emma says without thinking.  

 

She covers her mouth a moment later, surprised she said it out loud, but it has Regina laughing again.  Because her closest friends would all agree.

 

“Oh, it is,” Regina says.  “I’ve lived there for most of my life and hell is a very good word for it.  I love it though. Getting to help it improve is something I’ve always dreamed of doing.  Young, idealistic me didn’t fully understand the constant uphill battle that is fighting against idiots in the city council with far too much power and horrible critical thinking skills, but I really do love it.”

 

“You’d just love it more if it gave you the time you wanted with Henry.”

 

Regina can only nod.

 

Conversation flows surprisingly well after that.  Years in politics has made Regina skilled at talking to people.  Feeling comfortable in a conversation that isn’t with her son or a couple of close friends is something else altogether.

 

They talk about Regina’s work and the charity Emma is working on with some of her teammates for underprivileged girls who want to play soccer.  They talk about embarrassing travel stories and Regina finds her laughter isn’t forced. It turns out they have a similar self deprecating sense of humor that Regina didn’t expect and she’s delighted.

 

The one topic Regina has been dreading is explicit soccer talk.  Emma knows that Regina is unfamiliar with her, but being someone who grew up with a great deal of love for the sport but hasn’t followed it beyond vague awareness in fifteen or so years is a difficult space to inhabit.  

 

But somehow, Emma finds a way into that conversation that doesn’t make Regina feel out of her depth.

 

“Do you remember the 99 World Cup?” she asks.  

 

“I was at the final game.”

 

“No way!” Emma says, eyes wide.  “Really?”

 

“I have cousins in Pasadena who we used to visit every summer, so as soon as my father found out the final would be there, he bought tickets for the two of us.  I doubt I’ll ever get a better birthday present,” Regina says with a laugh.

 

It will always be one of her most cherished memories.  It was one of the first times her father had so openly defied his wife, beyond letting her sneak off to play with the neighborhood children or the two of them watching univision games in secret on an old television in the basement.  The memory is far from uncomplicated though. Being there, surrounded by other teenage girls who loved that team as much as she did, had been alienating.

 

She hasn’t thought about the multitude of feelings about that game in years.  She hasn’t thought about how much she had envied the girl sitting next to her, there with her mother and wearing her team’s jersey, her face and hair covered in red, white and blue.  Mother would have called the girl barbaric. Regina had wanted to be just like her.

 

For a few hours, she got to pretend she was.

 

The memory is bittersweet for sure, but she smiles back on it now.

 

“It was incredible, being there for that game.  It as a great game, but I think I remember the atmosphere more.  The only thing I’ve ever been to since that felt as charged and hopeful was going to an Obama rally in Boston ten years ago.  Both times I could tell that something monumental was happening.”

 

“Though Obama didn’t have Brandi Chastain removing her shirt,” Emma says, nudging Regina’s arm with her elbow, eyebrows waggling.  It’s ridiculous, and Regina can’t help a warm, full laugh.

 

“He certainly could have done with more black sports bras,” Regina says.  She wipes at the tears that begin to leak from her eyes. “I will never forget that.  My mother would have been scandalized if she’d been there.”

 

“It must have been amazing.”  Regina looks over to see a wistful look on Emma’s face that she’s sure she shares.  “I watched it on tv with a bunch of other kids at a group home. Getting kids a ball to kick around at a park was always a good, cheap way to keep us from getting into too much trouble.  That was the first time most of us got to watch professional soccer and really learn the rules. I doubt I’d be where I am now without that World Cup and how popular it made girl’s soccer.”

 

“It was the same when I was young; all kids in parks and having something to do at recess.  I was never on any teams or anything,” she says, remembering that old sting of envy. It has dulled a great deal over time, more than she ever thought it would, but it is still there.  “I guess I was a bit too old to be in that bubble where it was suitable for girls to play.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Regina isn’t sure how much of her troubled childhood she feels comfortable sharing, but that look of genuine interest and concern is back in Emma’s eyes.

 

“I loved it, and my father loved it.  We bonded a lot over staticky games in Spanish.  Mother didn’t approve though. As soon as I grew boobs, it was out of the park and into ballroom dancing and etiquette and basically anything to keep me inside and out of the sun,” Regina says, followed by a dark chuckle.  She’d thought she was well over this particular bitterness towards her mother, but knowing the cruel old woman had spent the week filling Henry with doubt brings it all rushing back. “I’m pretty sure that she’s still bitter she was never allowed to get my sister and me involved in some kind of Daughters of the Revolution nonsense.”

 

“Is your mother actually Emily Gilmore?”

 

The laugh that brings out of Regina feels healing.

 

“I’ve often thought so,” she says.

 

***

 

By the time Regina is back in her own seat, she’s feeling alive in a way she never would have thought possible at the end of a flight across the entirety of the continental United States.  Let alone after five days with her mother. Who knew that Emma Swan, international soccer star, is what she needed to turn her Thanksgiving weekend around?

 

With all the anxiety that had hung around her like a fog for the last several hours finally lifted, Regina opens her book with the hope to at last get some reading done.  Henry sleeps on next to her, drooling peacefully on the airplane pillow. There’s more than enough time to read at least one more chapter before the plane lands.

 

Her brain seems to have other plans.

 

While her friends convince her to go on dates a few times a year, it has been a long time since Regina has had feelings for someone that could be said to resemble something like a crush.  It has been years since she felt romantic interest in another person.

 

She knows that the possibility is low that she will ever say more than a few passing words to Emma in the future; if she and Henry are able to get to one of her games and she recognizes them, maybe.  

 

But her brain is stuck on Emma like an overeager puppy with a new toy.  

 

Circling and circling, one fantasy after another, no matter how hard she tries to stop them.  Which, to be fair, isn’t very hard at all.

 

Emma Swan repairing her fence in the heat of the summer sun.  Sweat soaking her tank top and slick across the well worked muscles of her shoulders.  Regina coming over to offer her iced tea and a hand towel and a kiss on the cheek, before getting pulled into another, deeper kiss.

 

The two of them snuggled up on her couch with mugs of coffee and different sections of the morning paper.  A couple of dogs and a cat lazing at their feet while Emma’s fingers play through her hair.

 

Reality slips back in, reminding her that even if everything else magically falls into place, she is still the mayor of a small and relatively conservative town in rural Maine.  Reminds her that nothing in the world would get them to elect an openly bisexual, Latina single mother for a second term. Reminds her, like Mother loves to as often as she can, that being _Cora’s daughter_ is the only reason she was elected in the first place.  And well, it’s not wrong.

 

It has nothing on the memory of Henry’s laughter that fills her head and her heart.  His animated face as he got to talk about his passion with his idol. The way Emma spoke to him in turn; the way she so easily drew him out of his shell like Regina has rarely seen him do with strangers since he was small.

 

What is being a mayor to that?

 

An announcement comes over the speakers that they’re about to start their descent into Logan International Airport.  It jolts Regina out of the light slumber she hadn’t noticed drifting into.

 

***

 

“Mom, you should totally ask her out,” Henry says the moment they get passed the gate and it’s clear they’re far enough away from Emma that she won’t be able to hear them.  Her son has learned some tact at least. Though not nearly enough, apparently.

 

Her first thought is to ‘Henry Daniel Mills’ him again, but she’s beginning to worry that she has said it enough on this trip alone to make it completely ineffective.  She gapes at him instead, doing her best to simply keep walking through the busy airport so they don’t get run over.

 

“She’s a professional athlete,” she says eventually, as if he might have forgotten.  But of course now that he’s had Emma’s undivided attention for over an hour, that barrier between celebrity and fan is probably starting to weaken for him.  She frowns. “And I’m just a small town mayor in the middle of nowhere Maine. The possibility of us even seeing each other again is slim, Henry. That she’d ever contemplate a relationship with me is-is…”

 

Thankfully Henry jumps in before she has to find a way to finish that sentence.  He quite literally jumps with delight.

 

“So _you_ have contemplated a relationship with _her_ then?” he asks, spinning around to face her and walking backwards.

 

“Henry.”  She gives him a look and turns him back around by his shoulders.

 

Before he lets himself be turned, he gives her a look of his own.  It’s knowing in a way that she is not sure what to think of, but she’s certain she doesn’t appreciate it.  He has acquired far too much of his aunt’s influence for someone who only sees her once a year or so. They’ve probably been chatting behind her back about her lack of a love life and plotting.  She is constantly grateful that her mother lives on the other side of the country, but she suddenly finds herself just as glad that her sister does as well.

 

“Come on, Mom.”  He draws out the vowels enough to let her know that his petulant ten year old self is alive and well.  “She’s wonderful. And I saw the way you two were together. You were smiling more than I’ve seen in a really long time.  And flirting horribly. And she was practically swooning over you.”

 

“I was not flirt-” she cuts herself off.  “How do you know what a woman looks like when she swoons?”

 

“I’m thirteen, Mom, not a baby.”  He rolls his eyes.

 

Which is fair.  He has caught her off guard by dumping all of this on her so immediately and she is woefully unprepared.  Even the few times she has seriously dated since he was old enough to be aware that his mother might have a life outside of him - and they have been very few - he has never pushed her this hard about a potential love interest.  Is it only because Emma is his idol? Or does he maybe see the same potential there that she is trying not to think about?

 

“I thought you were sleeping?”

 

He glares at her and it is all Zelena.  Imperious and having no time for her deflecting.  She’s definitely going to have a talk with her sister.

 

“I thought you’d enjoy talking to her,” he says after a moment.  His glare turns into a smirk that isn’t much better. “She’s fun and thoughtful, and I know you don’t get to talk to people much these days unless it’s about politics and town stuff.  You enjoyed it, right?”

 

“So you were trying to set me up.”  She’s a little impressed.

 

“You’re totally avoiding my question, which means you definitely enjoyed her company.”

 

He walks ahead of her, a smug stance in his shoulders and gait.  She is sure he’s grinning from ear to ear, basking in his victory.  She sighs.

 

“Henry.”  She speeds up a few steps until she’s even with him and takes his hand.  He looks at her but doesn’t shrug her off and it makes her feel lighter. A little like she had when she was talking to Emma.  Like how she felt when she watched Emma and Henry talk so easily together. But it doesn’t last. “It’s not that easy. We’re from two very different worlds.  She’s probably never been to Maine in her life. And-” she takes a breath and squeezes his hand - “and she’s probably not even interested in women.”

 

Henry laughs at that.  Stops in the middle of the moving walkway and tilts his head back and laughs at her.

 

“Now I know I’ve taught you not to laugh at me when I’m talking to you about serious things.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s still trying to catch his breath and get his smile in check.  “It’s just… I really expected you to google her the moment you left me alone with her.”

 

“I barely googled her.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“It _means_ ,” Regina draws out the word.  She rolls her eyes. She absolutely will not admit to her son that she spent any amount of time lusting over a page of Google image results.  “That I looked at a couple of pictures of her to make sure she was who you both said she was and then I closed out the page.”

 

Henry narrows his eyes while looking over her face for a moment, because clearly she’s awful at being nonchalant with her son when it comes to how attractive she finds his role models.  He scoffs.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t at least look at her wiki article.  Marian is the best person in Storybrooke and you did a full background check on her.”

 

“Marian is a city employee, it was required and not at all personal.  Though letting you spend time at her house with your friends is much different than you talking to someone for an hour while I sit across the aisle.”  Regina takes a deep breath and flexes her wrist. This is getting out of hand. “What is your point exactly?”

 

“Mom, the entire world knows Emma Swan is gay,” his says through more laughter.  “I’m surprised ‘Emma Swan lesbian’ didn’t come up as a suggestion when you typed her name.” 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

An unexpected feeling of sadness floods through Emma after Henry's excited, "Bye Emma!  It was nice to meet you!" and Regina's small wave. She spends a few moments looking after them with an unfamiliar sense of loss.  At Henry bouncing with excitement as they move towards the exit, enough words filtering back that she is certain he continues to talk about her.  At the way Regina puts her hand on his head and begins to run her fingers through his shaggy hair - as a way to calm him or to make sure he knows he has her attention, Emma can't tell.  But it's loving and familiar, like this is something Regina does often enough that she's doing it without a thought. And all Emma can do is stand there as others walk passed her seat, between her and this beautiful little family.

 

Even as heads begin to block her view, Emma watches Regina turn her head to smile at her son.  She sees Regina's eyes sparkle at her son's mirth. She wonders what it would be like to have anyone look at her like that.  When she thinks about the possibility, all she sees is Regina.

 

And then Regina turns a little bit more, and those sparkling eyes are on her.  Are _for_ her.  A bright smile when she catches Emma watching, and a nod of gratitude.  Emma nods back, mouth dry and hanging open slightly.

 

Regina turns back around before Emma can work her face into a smile in return.  And before Emma can think to do something outrageous like call after them or plow her way through the several other first class passengers who now stand between them, Henry and Regina disembark together, out of sight.

 

 ***

 

Emma tries not to think too much of the mother and son she sees not far ahead of her, standing in front of the arrival and departures board looking for a specific flight.  This is the third time she has seen them in the terminal since getting off the plane.

 

The first time hadn’t seemed remarkable since they hadn’t been in the airport long, even if they were going in the wrong direction to get to the baggage claim.  The second time, Henry had been waiting outside a bathroom for his mother several minutes later. She hadn’t hidden herself, exactly, but she had done her best to blend in with a group of tourists going the other direction.  There was no way Regina exiting that bathroom to find her son and Emma hanging out wouldn’t have looked weird, she’d been sure of it.

 

Those earlier sightings had been easy enough to reason away.  And while there are still countless perfectly good reasons why the Millses could be standing there that didn’t feed into Emma’s newest completely ridiculous fantasy, seeing them a third time made it that much more difficult to shake.

 

Who doesn’t want to spend a bit of time daydreaming that the gorgeous woman and her adorable son they’d just met on the plane are going to end up on their connecting flight several hours later, to Maine, of all places.  That they and said gorgeous woman would get all of that extra time to talk and bond and discover they were in love. It’s the stuff of fairytales, sure, but isn’t Emma allowed to dream of that?

 

But for all she knows, Regina is checking to see which gate her boyfriend is about to land at and she and Henry are going home to their perfect house in the suburbs of Boston to have dinner as a perfect nuclear family.  'It's not Mrs. anything,' still rings through her with hope, though it said very little about Regina's relationship status beyond being married.  It certainly said nothing about her interest in Emma, even if it had come off as flirty.

 

Emma shakes her head at herself.  She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that this isn’t her own personal romcom, and sets out to find something that will occupy her time until her flight to Portland.

 

It doesn’t take nearly as long to find a distraction as she had anticipated.  

 

Two little girls sitting on a bench as she walks around the corner seem to recognize her, if their excited bouncing and the shushing from their mother is anything to go by.  It’s clear that their mother is attempting to convince them that Emma doesn’t need to be bombarded by over excited little girls when she’s just trying to get home, but Emma catches her eye, gives her a nod and a little smile.  The girls come skipping over a moment later.

 

Being good with kids is a skill that took Emma years to learn.  After a childhood full of bullying - for constantly being the new kid, for being poor and having clothing so obviously not meant for her, for not being good at, well, anything besides sports really - being surrounded by yelling kids had been difficult.  Even on the soccer field held difficult memories, with her stained jerseys and old cleats that didn’t always fit her. It wasn’t until high school that she could participate in team bonding activities outside of practice and travel. And by then she had realized that she didn’t like boys and an entirely new barrier came up between her and her peers.

 

It turns out that being a sports hero and role model is a bit similar to exposure therapy.  There are still days where she wants than to run off and hide in the nearest bathroom while she works herself down from the edge of a panic attack, but those happen less and less as time goes on.  Two little girls should be harmless enough.

 

“Hey girls,” Emma says.  She gives them high fives when they get to her and notices the older girl seems to be the shier of the two.

 

“Are you really Emma Swan?” the younger girl asks in an awestruck voice.  Emma wonders if that will ever stop feeling surreal.

 

“I am,” she responds, returning her grin.  “And who might you be?”

 

“I’m Denise.”  She tugs the older girl even with her.  “This is my sister, Andrea.”

 

“What positions do you play?”

 

The younger girl bounces some more and grins.  “I just started playing goalie and I’m the best!”

 

“I bet you stop all the goals.”

 

“Well, I stop most of them. My defenders are really good though and they stop a lot before anything gets to me.”

 

She gives her sister an encouraging look.  The girl gapes up at Emma for a few more seconds before finally blurting out, “Forward!” and blushing.

 

“Andi just joined a competitive team this fall,” her little sister says after laughing at her.  “She’s amazing and she wants to be just like you when she grows up!”

 

Andrea blushes deeper and elbows her sister’s arm, hissing her name.

 

“Ow! It’s true!” she says.  She leans in like she’s about to tell Emma the biggest secret she knows.  “She scored thirteen goals this fall. She even got a hat trick in one game!”

 

She says it all with a smug look on her face, clearly proud.  Andrea is looking sheepish about the whole thing, so Emma offers her another high five.

 

“Wow, that _is_ amazing!” she says and the girl accepts the friendly hand slap.  Emma wonders if she’s going to vow to never wash her hand again once she gets back to her mother, she knows she said similar after meeting the national team the first time when she was young.  “Do you have anything to sign?”

 

Their mom is starting to look antsy from where she’s watching them, so Emma pulls out a sharpie.  Both girls look heartbroken.

 

“Could you sign our arms?” Andrea asks with a stutter.

 

Emma smiles at the idea, though she knows better to sign random kids’ skin.  She makes eye contact with their mother again and holds up the pen, and then her arm, hoping that will get the question across.  She grins when she gets a nod in return.

 

“I have to get going, but it was very nice getting to meet both of you,” she says as she’s offered Denise’s arm.  She signs it quickly then gives the girl a high five. “Good luck keeping those balls out of the net, kid.”

 

When she turns to Andrea, the girl looks like she’s about to pass out from nerves.  She offers her a soft smile before taking her arm. “And I hope to see you on the national team some day,” she says, capping her pen and giving the girl’s bicep a squeeze.

 

***

 

“Emma! Hey!”  Emma hears a familiar voice and looks to her left to see Henry waving at her from the Cinnabon off to the side.  It looks like Regina is telling him off for bothering her and the sight has her grinning as she walks over.

 

“If it isn’t my favorite plane buddies,” she says, ruffling Henry’s hair.  He continues to beam up at her, but from the surprised look Regina is giving them, that’s clearly not his usual reaction to the affection.  Then, as if she hadn’t been catching sight of them all over the terminal for the last half an hour, she says, “imagine seeing you here!”

 

“Mom promised she’d get us cinnamon rolls if I was good at Grandma’s this week,” Henry says smugly as he takes a step closer to the counter.  Emma doesn’t doubt that he was a perfect prince, though from the little Regina said about her mother, she thinks the kid wanted to give his own mother a break more than anything else.

 

“Bribery for dealing with relatives, huh?”  She gives Henry a fist bump. “Nice.”

 

Narrowed eyes look over both of them before landing on Henry.

 

“I don’t see why it’s necessary to make Miss Swan think this isn’t something you talk me into every time we have a layover here.”  Emma scrunches her nose at the formality.

 

“Well, _I_ don’t see why it’s necessary for her to think you don’t enjoy this tradition as much as I do,” Henry says, mirroring his mother’s imperious glare.  He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks as if to prove he wins this point.

 

Regina breaks first, her face morphing into a soft smile as she nudges him forward.  “Go on then, get our usual,” she says before turning her attention to Emma. “Did you want anything?”

 

It takes Emma a moment to even realize Regina is talking to her again, still too busy processing what she witnessed.  Watching the way they interacted on the plane - Regina's gentle touches with her son, the warm way they smiled at each other, how fondly Henry had spoken of his mother - had filled Emma with a kind of awe, but this friendly verbal sparring is so beyond Emma's idea of how families are together.  Admittedly, her examples of what a family looks like have always been a bit skewed. This family is really throwing her for a loop though, and it only makes her want to spend more time with them.

 

“Sure,” she says eventually.  She sees Henry waiting for her response from the counter.  “But I can get my own.”

 

“Nonsense.  My treat,” Regina says.  The smile that softens her eyes assures Emma that the offer is genuine and all she can do is nod.  “A roll and coffee?”

 

“Hot chocolate, actually.”

 

And Henry is relaying the order before she can change her mind.

 

They’re waiting for their drinks when Emma finally gets up the nerve to ask the question she’s been dying to know since she first realized that Boston wasn’t the Mills family’s last stop.

 

“Where are you flying to next then?”

 

“Portland,” Henry says immediately.  Emma’s heart beat picks up.

 

“Portland? As in, Maine?”  She had hoped to come off as at least somewhat disinterested, but it’s clear from Regina’s raised eyebrow that she botched that attempt.

 

“It would have been silly of us to fly from LAX to Boston if we were going to Portland, Oregon.”

 

"Sorry."  Emma blushes, feeling a bit ridiculous.  She has long passed the point where she can rationalize wanting to hide her desire to spend more time with her new friends, so she might as well stop trying to hold her cards so close to her chest.  "I'm just excited is all. That's where I'm headed! You aren't on the 10:20 flight, by any chance?"

 

“No, ours starts boarding at 7:55.”

 

The frown marring Regina’s face looks very much like the beginnings of a pout.  Like Regina finds it just as unfair as Emma that they aren’t on her next flight too and won’t get to spend those extra two hours together.   _But that can’t really be how Regina feels_ , Emma scolds herself.   _Stop projecting, Swan._

 

“Damn, guess I’ll have to find another family to hang out with then,” she says.  The joke falls flat to her ears and she groans internally.

 

“You can hang out with us til we leave!” Henry says before Emma can dig herself too far into a pit of self loathing.

 

Regina looks at him like she expects better manners from her son.  Getting the kid in trouble is the last thing Emma wants. She worries for a moment that these few hours were supposed to be quality family bonding time for a busy mayor and her son, who - if Emma remembers this age correctly - suddenly has a fraction of the free time he once did.  And now here she is, a complete stranger, interfering with the last few hours of a holiday that was already taken up by other people’s needs. She can’t keep from smiling at the boy like he just saved her world though.

 

Thankfully, when Regina’s eyes land on hers, they’re expectant and a little hopeful.  They both enjoy her company. Emma is wanted here. It makes her a bit wistful.

 

“I’d love to!” she says as they grab their drinks and treats and start walking again.  The relieved look Regina gives her only makes her smile grow. “Honestly, I thought this trip was going to be boring and lonely, and quite possibly very depressing.  Spending even a little bit of it with the two of you has already made it infinitely better than I had expected. I appreciate it a lot.”

 

***

  


When they find a place to sit tucked into a corner by the Millses' gate, both women are surprised when Henry holds up his phone and asks his mom if he can eat over by the windows.

 

"I promised the girls I'd talk to them when we got to Boston," he says, already stepping away from them.

 

"That's fine, Sweetheart.  Just stay where I can see you, please."

 

A look passes between mother and son that Emma can't parse, but then Henry grins and runs off.  He plops down and settles on the floor in front of the large ceiling to floor windows overlooking the space where their plane will eventually dock.  Regina rolls her eyes fondly.

 

"The girls?" Emma can't help but ask.

 

"His soccer friends."

 

"Ah, that makes sense," she says with a nod.  She remembers Henry talking about Tiana and Jacinda and their team far more than he mentioned his own.  "More sense than..."

 

Regina snorts.  "Did you think I was raising a player, Miss Swan?"

 

And honestly, she had thought they'd dealt with the name thing already.  What is it going to take?

 

"I don't know," Emma starts slowly.  She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at how outrageous the very idea is.  "I thought his interest in women's soccer was genuine, but maybe it's been a front to pick up girls this whole time."

 

Emma is pretty sure they're both aware that this is a joke.  The fire in Regina's eyes is a little terrifying and she can't tell if it's just for show, even with the hint of humor she thinks she sees in them.

 

"You take that back this instant."  It comes out as a hiss, but it turns out that Regina is horrible at bluffing if the opportunity to smirk is there.

 

"I regretted it as it was leaving my mouth," Emma promises.  Her smile finally breaks and Regina legit snickers.

 

As much as she wants to utilize every moment together to get to know Regina better, the smell of cinnamon and fresh baked pastry is far too much for Emma's empty stomach to ignore.  She holds out the bag for Regina to grab a container first before digging into her own, and she's glad she did the polite thing because Regina also grabs the plastic utensils and a napkin they were given.  So Emma follows suit, though she definitely would not have done the same were she on her own.

 

"Since you said you're the mayor of a tiny town, I'm guessing you don't live in Portland?" Emma asks as she cuts off her first bite.

 

"No, Storybrooke is a small coastal town about an hour north east from there."

 

"Storybrooke? Really?"  At Regina's nod, she chuckles.  "Sounds like the setting for a young adult fantasy novel."

 

Regina laughs and it's beautiful.  Emma decides then that she will make it her goal to get Regina laughing as much as she can in these next couple of hours.

 

"That would certainly make things less boring than they usually are," Regina says, smirking as she takes another bite.

 

"Those places are usually pretty boring," Emma says.  She hopes that she's not completely obvious in the way she watches the fork leave Regina's mouth, her tongue follows soon after, licking a stray bit of frosting off her lip.  Emma looks away quickly and takes her own bite. "Until the young protagonist is sent off on their quest and finds out that their sleepy town is full of all kinds of secrets and magic."

 

Regina's eyes are warm when they meet hers, which means she couldn't have noticed Emma staring.  Unless she did and this is some kind of pity smile? Emma is usually so much better at this. She was far more confident on the plane.  Though that had only been some playful flirting. This feels like more than that, somehow. Like there's something at stake.

 

"You sound familiar with the genre," Regina says, oblivious to the wild spiriting Emma has just done in her mind.

 

Emma takes her time cutting off her next piece.  She would say she's stalling to regroup, but it turns out that it really does take a great deal of effort to eat a giant cinnamon roll with a damn plastic knife and fork.  It's some kind of obscene torture out to keep her from enjoying her food. She has no idea how Regina makes it look so refined.

 

"They're great books for international flights," she says finally.  She gives up with a huff and pokes at her roll with only the fork, attempting to tear it off that way.  "I'm never really up to date with things because I hate traveling with hardbacks, but I have a decent library going at this point, I like to think.  A lot of things lately have queer protagonists too, which is pretty neat," she pauses to look at Regina's reaction to the idea of queer stories and Emma reading them.  She's going to take that soft smile as a sign that her flirting hadn't been one sided. "Though I'm starting to find it a little difficult to relate to teen romance now that I'm zooming towards thirty."

 

Her chuckle is cut short when one of the fork's tines breaks off in her food.  With a grunt, she sets aside the broken plastic and goes at this the way these things are supposed to be eaten.  With her hands.

 

She tears off a chunk and shoves it in her mouth, licking her fingers on their way out.  The perfectly complimentary flavors of the cinnamon and cream cheese icing, unhindered by unnecessary utensils, have her moaning happily.  Her stomach is certainly glad that she is no longer slowed down by the unwieldy things.

 

She is far too lost in the joy of her food to notice how quiet things have gotten.

 

Turning her head slightly in the middle of a particularly large bite, she finds Regina watching her intently, bottom lip between her teeth keeping a smile at bay.

 

"What?" Emma asks around a mouthful of food.

 

Regina lowers her head at being caught but the sight of Emma’s confusion makes her lose her ongoing battle against her smile.  Her little chuckle makes Emma swallow hard. A quick gulp of her hot chocolate is the only thing that keeps her from wincing.

 

“You eat like Henry,” Regina says, still smiling.  Her eyes are warm and fond when she looks back at Emma.

 

Blush spreads quickly across Emma’s cheeks as she looks back down at the half eaten pastry on her plate.  “I only brought a small snack on the plane and it wasn't nearly enough,” Emma explains quietly, feeling defensive.  She can tell she’s about to start babbling when Regina’s hand rests gently on hers. Fingers begin stroking up and down her wrist and Emma relaxes into the touch, feels herself turn to goo with it.

 

"You should have said, we would have gotten something more substantial than cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate."

 

"It's fine," Emma says.  She shrugs, because it is fine, but it doesn't defuse the embarrassment at the whole being caught eating like a starving animal thing.  "I was gonna eat dinner after you and Henry left."

 

“I didn’t mean to sound judgmental or anything,” Regina says, aware of where Emma's thoughts are stuck.  If she keeps moving her fingers like that, she could insult Emma and her non-existent parents and Emma honestly would not even notice.  “I find it endearing if anything,” she continues, though she looks suddenly like she wishes she could stop herself from talking. “It’s kind of adorable.”

 

The last part is barely audible, but Emma is sure she heard her correctly, if both of their blushing is anything to go by.  Then Regina’s hand leaves Emma’s wrist as if she had only now realized that it was still there. It feels like far too great a loss for something so simple and Emma tries to brush off the feeling as they both turn back to their food.

 

“So,” Regina starts up after her last bite.  They had both been sneaking looks at each other while they finished eating, but this is the first time Regina doesn’t look away when Emma’s eyes meet hers.  “What are you flying into Portland for? Henry said you play for Boston and I might not keep up with soccer like I used to, but I’m fairly sure there’s no pro teams in Maine.”

 

“There’s not.  Yet,” she says after a pause.  She looks at Regina, trying to decide if she should trust this woman who she already feels like she could trust with anything.  This isn’t just anything though. And even if Regina isn’t a hardcore fan who would let this slip on social media, she can’t say the same for Henry.  “You have to promise you won’t tell Henry.”

 

She hates having to say those words.  She knew she would before they left her mouth, but at the troubled look on Regina’s face, she hates them even more.

 

“I mean, he’ll find out eventually, if things work out,” she rushes on, trying to reassure this mother that she has nothing to worry about.  “It’s just industry stuff that I can’t have getting out. I may be one of their stars, but they would have my ass so fast if this stuff leaked before anything was finalized.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me.”

 

“I probably shouldn’t but-” Emma scrapes at the gooey remains on her plate to give herself some time.  “The thing is, I think I’ve been needing to talk about this to someone who wasn’t also involved. And I feel like I can trust you.”

 

Regina nods her head slowly.  “Of course,” she says. When her hand lands on Emma’s this time, Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

 

“Boston’s team is getting disbanded.  We’ve been worried about it since we didn’t make it into the playoffs, but they told us last week.  Everyone was hoping that after we got some of the original team back, we’d have a better season, but our coach was awful and there were a bunch of injuries and we couldn’t manage to win any games and ticket sales were super low,” she lets out in a rush.  She’s amazed that it does seem to help ease the despair that had been growing in her chest all week, feeling ready to burst at any moment. “It’s been hell this week, but at least now we know so we’re not in this horrible limbo state any more and we can start moving on.  Which is why I’m heading to Portland.”

 

"Starting up an entire new team sounds like a lot of work," Regina says after listening to Emma intently.

 

"Well, sure.  But teams come and go in this league more often than you'd think.  Hell, the leagues come and go with this sport at an alarming rate in the US," Emma says with a wry laugh.  The fact that the most recent version of the pro-women's league has been around for several years now has felt stable to most of them at this point, which is outrageous.  "We're kind of old hats at starting up new things now. I'm kind of excited to get to take part in things at this level."

 

At this point, Emma shouldn't be surprised by Regina actually being interested in this new huge thing going on in her life, but when she's asked to explain more, Emma has to take a moment push back the doubt that Regina means it.  But she does. Then she jumps into the parts of the past few weeks of negotiations that have had her cautiously optimistic about her future.

 

No one but Mulan and a few administration types had heard the whole plan yet - Emma Swan's optimism has always been more on the cautious side than anything else.  She doesn't want to hold back with Regina, even if she doesn't quite follow all the intricacies.

 

She's right there with Emma through most of it though.  The test games there have been throughout Maine over the last couple of years that told them Portland has a perfect stadium and a ready fanbase.  The amazing young players coming out of college who she is excited to take under her wing. The part Emma is looking forward to the most, however, is the outreach program.

 

Regina's smile grows as Emma tells her about her ideas for camps and programs to get out to cities and rural areas and how her charity will fit into things.  How, if all this works out, other teams could change their current programs to something similar.

 

What she doesn't say is that if this all works out, this could be her future.  Well beyond her playing years. This could provide stability for her after a lifetime of none.  She is a woman who hasn't lived in a single city for longer than the four years she was in university.  After twenty six years of not being sure whether or not she would be able to stay in any given place for more than a year, more than a season, she is getting tired of it.  She wants to sign a year lease for a nice apartment without worrying that she will have to break it.

 

She wants to settle down.  And if Portland is only an hour away from Regina Mills, then it has more going for it than most places she has lived.

 

By the time she's finished, they are grinning broadly at each other, their fingers squeezed tightly together.

 

"I really hope it works out," Regina says, and Emma lets herself imagine that Regina is hoping as much as she is that they'll end up close to each other.  That maybe this can be something.

 

"Me too."

 

***

 

They sit together in companionable silence for a while.  Emma is surprised at how much she actually enjoys it, especially those moments when she peeks over from her own book to watch Regina’s face as she reads.  Sometimes her lips curl in this little smile when she’s at a good part. Emma could watch her read for hours.

 

Or at least a quarter of an hour.  

 

After a six hour flight, it doesn’t take long for her to start getting restless.  She thinks over possible things to do to kill the time. Regina seems to be enjoying her book a great deal, so something that would leave her undisturbed would probably be best, but Emma’s legs are starting to bounce.  

 

She smirks to herself as she digs through her duffle.  It turns into a grin when Regina makes a disapproving noise at all the movement and rustling.  It doesn’t take long to find however, and Emma feels triumphant as she grabs the soft, half sized plush soccer ball from the depths of her bag.  

 

It’s time for Henry to live up to some of those claims he was making on the plane.

 

“Hey, kid!” Emma yells across several seats.  Regina glares at her but she just sticks her tongue out.  The moment Henry begins to lift his head and bring up his hand to remove an earbud, Emma chucks her soccer ball at him, saying, “Think fast!”

 

“Emma!” Regina says, part admonishment and part anxious yelp.  She grips onto Emma’s shoulder the same moment that Henry catches the ball on instinct, exactly as Emma knew he would.  The nice catch doesn’t keep Regina from swatting her with the same hand that had just been pulling her close. “What on earth were you thinking.”

 

A laugh escapes Emma before she can help herself.  It turns out that an irritated Regina Mills is as amusing and wonderful as the one who teases and cares, and well, Emma is a little attracted to the way her eyes darken and narrow.

 

Also she can't help being a little pleased that she is no longer 'Miss Swan.'

 

“Oh, come on Regina, he caught it easily!  I knew he’d be fine.”

 

Henry grins up at them, holding the ball above his head.  He picks up his things and jogs over to them, intent on keeping Emma out of the dog house.

 

“I have really good reflexes, Mom,” he assures, grin never slipping.

 

“See?  He has good reflexes, Mom.”  Emma does her best grinning Henry impression, willing herself to be extra cute.  She gets an eye roll for her trouble.

 

“Honestly, you’re both children,” Regina says.  She narrows her eyes at each of them in turn, but it does nothing to put them in line.  “I suppose it makes this behavior more understandable, but throwing things around a busy airport is hardly -”

 

Before she can finish, Emma tosses the ball towards her.  She fumbles it for a moment, but manages to hold onto it successfully.  Her smug look doesn’t keep the other two from doubling over at the momentary panic that made her eyes bulge.

 

With her smug smile firmly in place, Regina stands up and walks the few feet to the nearby trash can.  “I could always toss it in here,” she says with a shrug. She holds the ball over the bin but makes no move to drop it.

 

“No!”  Emma leaps to her feet and snatches the ball back, cuddling it to her chest.  “This is my gold medal ball,” she pouts.

 

“I was never going to actually throw it away, Emma,” Regina says, her voice soft again.  “It seemed like we were making a game of making people panic, so I thought I’d join in.”

 

“This would be like getting hit with a stuffed animal. Except safer because there’s no hard facial features or furry legs to get you in the eye."  She tosses it up in the air a few times as she thinks. "Though if it's a game you want..."

 

"As long as it doesn't involve throwing anything at anyone's head."

 

"Nah, I was thinking more of a little one on one.  What do you say, Kid?" Emma taunts, nodding her head towards the empty space in the corner.  “Ready to show me some of those skills you spent so much time talking up on the plane?”

 

“You’re on!”

 

Before Emma can make a move for the corner, Henry snatches the ball while it’s mid toss and makes a run for it.  He laughs as he effortlessly dodges away from Emma’s grabbing hands.

 

“Don’t get too carried away,” Regina warns, calling out to Henry’s quickly retreating form.  Emma is pretty sure he doesn’t hear a thing. As she’s about to chase after him, Regina continues, lowly so only Emma can hear.  “It looks like you have your work cut out for you, Miss Swan.”

 

It has her hesitating for a moment.  She gulps at the gravelly quality to Regina’s voice, wondering if it is intentional.  She doesn’t dare look back to check out the way Regina might be looking at her.

 

Her eyes are wide and her palms feel clammy, but she has a thirteen year old’s ass to kick.

 

The distance she puts between herself and Regina instantly relaxes her.  It also increases her desire to turn around as Regina watches her, feeling those warm brown eyes follow her.  Getting to Henry, she’s grateful that it’s easier to brush off the urge. Easy to slip into game mode and narrow her world down to ball and her opponent.

 

Henry is already dribbling it around the small space.  She stands back for a couple of minutes to watch him as he rolls it under his foot occasionally to turn.  He is adapting well to using a ball that has so much more give than he’s used to. After only a couple of turns, he’s putting less weight on it and his transitions smooth out.

 

She grins, giving him a few more moments to adjust before she steps in.  She’s impressed when she does and he easily changes direction away from her.

 

“Come on, Henry!” comes from behind them and they both look over to see Regina watching intently.

 

“Home field advantage, I see,” she comments.

 

Henry is still distracted by his mother’s cheering and Emma easily gets the ball away from his feet.  Her touch intentionally sends it a couple of yards away from them and she dashes after it before he even notices that it’s no longer in his possession.

 

“Hey!”  He chases after her, but she manages to keep the ball away from him as she maneuvers it around.  She crosses it behind her right foot with her left and laughs as she makes him chase after her again.  “This is _your_ home turf,” he grumbles.

 

“Stop paying so much attention to the fans and play the game,” she says.  She kicks it to the left of them and runs after it again. Her burst of speed gets her back to the ball well ahead of Henry.  She controls it for a few more steps before shooting it towards a couple of empty seats near Regina. It lands neatly on top of one of them and stays there.

 

“Goooooal!” she cheers.  She spreads her arms and runs around like an airplane.  It’s not her favorite form of celebration, but it’s too fitting to pass up.

 

Her grin gets smug when she hears Regina clapping for her politely.

 

“I didn’t know we were supposed to be scoring,” Henry pouts, looking betrayed.  “That’s not fair!”

 

She wasn’t expecting him get like this over being frustrated, but she supposes she should have.  This probably isn’t what he was hoping to get out of a one on one with his favorite player. She looks over to Regina to see if she has any advice to offer, but his mother simply shrugs, looking as confused about this as Emma feels.

 

This is up to Emma then.

 

“Do you want me to go easy on you?” she asks.  She picks the ball up from the chair and tosses it over to him.

 

“No,” Henry says instantly, disgusted at the very idea of it.

 

“You’re the one who wanted to take on a two time World Cup champion and gold medalist.”  He huffs. She raises an eyebrow. Clearly a change in strategy is needed. “How about some advice on how to beat me?”

 

He looks doubtful as he takes a moment to think about it, but he nods eventually.  She smiles brightly at him, happy that he still seemed willing to play and that maybe she hadn’t fucked this all up after all.

 

“You have to be quicker. Lighter on your feet.  When you don’t have the ball, you hunker down and that means your reaction time is slower.  That would be fine if you were trying to block me from getting somewhere, but you want to get the ball back.”  He nods as she talks, starting to morph back into the excitable boy he’d been a few minutes ago. That she could be the cause of that has her feeling light as air.  

 

“I’m an old lady now, you should be able to run circles around me after all the sugar you just ate,” she says.  Henry finally smiles at her again. When she looks over, Regina gives her a thumbs up. She wishes she was headed into a championship game right now because she feels like she could succeed at anything.  “Come on, let’s have fun. First to five?”

 

"Yeah," Henry says, with a lopsided smile and a high five.

 

Regina settles into her seat, her arms spread across the back of the chairs and her feet crossed like a queen waiting for her subjects to entertain her.  "I'll just keep score then."

 

They knock the ball back and forth a few times until Henry gets possession of it.  He does a few tricks and it’s nothing Emma hasn’t seen before, but she thinks it’s pretty damn good for a thirteen year old.

 

He gets a couple of decent feints on her, then kicks it long.  He rushes past, leaving Emma tangled up with her own feet. She looks up from tripping over herself to find Regina laughing and Henry taking his first shot on their makeshift goal.

 

The ball bounces off the chair leg at exactly the right angle and goes in.

 

His cheer is boisterous, with an added whoop from his mother.  They get a couple of curious looks from others at the gate and a glare from a man in a fancy business suit.  Henry blushes. Emma sticks her tongue out at the man. She isn’t about to have some rich dude with a stick up his ass put a damper on their fun.  And she isn’t going to be on a flight with him anyway.

 

“Nice shot, Kid,” Emma says.

 

Regina holds up her fingers to show it’s tied at one a piece.

 

The praise has Henry blushing harder but he’s grinning like mad too.

 

Emma scrunches her nose as she steps back into position.  Her ankle feels a bit stiff. Regina, of course, notices immediately.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Emma says, waving her off.  She shifts her weight so she can flex her right foot a few times, then shifts back to lift herself up onto the toes of only that foot.  “I should have known better than to do this without stretching after so long on a plane.”

 

She works it out a bit longer, the Mills family looking on in concern.  After a lifetime of being told to toughen up, from teasing teammates and irritated foster parents and bad coaches, she isn’t sure what to do with people openly worrying about her.  She shrugs it off and takes the ball back.

 

“This can’t be a tied game forever,” she taunts.  Henry’s frown is starting to make her uncomfortable, if she’s honest.

 

“You sure?”

 

“These old joints aren’t gonna keep me down this time.”

 

“As long as you promise to ice it when you get back to your hotel,” Henry says.  His eyes narrow and his hands are on his hips. It’s so easy to picture Regina in this exact pose that Emma grins.

 

“I think I should hire you as my physical therapist instead of the guy I have now.”

 

That has him grinning and they’re off again, both of them looking to get that two to one lead.

 

It’s three to two in favor of Emma a while later.  Henry has control of the ball, but Emma is between him and the goal putting up a stellar defense that he hasn’t found a way around yet.

 

With a sudden glint in his eye, Emma can tell he’s thought of something.  She’s surprised when he pushes the ball towards the nearby wall with the outside of his left foot.  It’s just enough room for him to turn his body slightly. He kicks the ball hard against the wall and while Emma’s attention is diverted by that, he darts around her other side to get the ball off the bounce.

 

Unlucky for Henry, they aren’t using a real soccer ball and it’s not there when he arrives.

 

Emma hoots as she gets the ball and easily sends it into the goal.

 

“That was a clever move,” she says when she gets back to Henry.  The boy is slumping a little, though she’s glad to see he doesn’t seem as down as before.  But his move backfiring clearly took the wind out of his sails. She tosses the ball in the air and they both watch him trap it under this foot the moment it hits the ground.  “It was a great use of your surroundings.”

 

“Really?”  His entire body lights up at the compliment.

 

“Yeah, it’s really important to have great observation skills, especially as a midfielder.  You need to be aware of any open players, or the best way to get them open, the moment you get the ball,” she says, bumping her side against his.  He nods along, soaking up every word like earlier. She’s better at this dispensing knowledge thing than she has always assumed. “It would have worked really well in an indoor game.”

 

“I got the idea from watching hockey,” he admits, his smile a little wicked.

 

Emma laughs.  “Just try not to use other hockey moves while playing soccer.  Definitely no boarding.”

 

Despite his improved spirits, it doesn’t take Emma long to get back control.  She can tell he’s getting tired, and she’s beginning to lag as well.

 

Even so, she certainly isn’t expecting it when he takes a dive for the ball the moment it gets a couple of feet in front of her.  Both she and Regina gasp as he rolls by her feet and grabs the ball.

 

He cackles as he gets to his feet, ball held tightly to his chest.

 

“What’s this?” Emma asks, more amused than anything now that it’s clear he hasn’t hurt himself.

 

“Bet you can’t get it back now!”

 

“Ha!”  She goes to make an easy grab for it, but he jumps away.  The tips of her fingers brush against the hem of his sleeve and she comes up empty handed.

 

He dodges this way and that, always keeping the ball out of her reach.  He giggles as he ducks under her outstretched arm to get around her and she flails after him just in time for him to get to her other side.  Emma would like to swear that she could easily get the ball from him if she wasn’t laughing quite so much, but she doesn’t think she can stop long enough to test that theory.  She thinks it’s part of Henry’s evil scheme anyway. And she has decided that she doesn’t mind making a fool out of herself if it keeps Regina laughing like that either.

 

She makes one last swipe for him like a lumbering ogre with horrible eye hand coordination, but he pivots and slips through her fingers again.

 

Getting bored of this new game he started, Henry finally makes a mistake.

 

As he dodges away from her again, he makes a beeline for the goal, not realizing that his straight trajectory makes him easy prey.

 

Emma swoops in behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle and lifting him easily off the ground.

 

"Cheating!  That's cheating!" Henry shrieks as he wriggles in her grasp.  "Where's the red card, ref?"

 

"Says the boy who blatantly picked up and carried the ball in the middle of play," Emma says, though she can hardly manage stern with the laughter still clear in her voice.

 

Picking Henry up was easy enough, but walking while holding him off the ground is another feat altogether.  Her walk becomes more of a waddle and she can barely see over his shoulder. Thankfully they're a short distance from his mother and their path is blessedly clear of obstacles.

 

“I believe this is yours,” Emma says.  She winks at Regina as she sets him down on his feet in front of her.

 

Regina lets out one last sputtering laugh when she stands up to give them both a high five.  She goes to ruffle Henry’s hair on instinct, not even thinking about how they had been running around in front of her for the last half an hour.  Her face contorts with a grimace the moment she realizes what she’s done.

 

“Now I have to deal with him being all sweaty and smelly while he sits next to me on the flight home,” Regina complains, removing her hand from his sweaty hair.

 

“Yes well.”  Emma smirks. She does her best to bite back a laugh at the way their perfectly mirrored looks of offence.  “At least he doesn’t have sweaty shinguards full of grass.”

 

Regina wrinkles her nose, familiar with precisely the smell Emma is referencing.

 

“Now you have to tell all your friends you lost to a girl,” Emma says, turning to Henry again.  She swears hears Regina call them both children when they stick their tongues out at each other.

 

“Not that many of them would tease me, since they’re all girls,” Henry responds.  Emma isn’t sure if he’s reminding her or trying to be snobby about it. The latter seems ridiculous except that his nose is raised in the air and his tone is imperious.  “But I remember you saying first to five wins. And you only got to four, so…”

 

Intentionally snobby then.  Emma cracks up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Ah yes, you didn’t lose on the best of technicalities: game cancelled on account of both players being booted off the field.”

 

***

 

The announcement that they will begin boarding shortly for the Mills family’s flight comes over the intercom, catching them all off guard.  In a way, it’s comforting to Emma that they look as heartbroken to be leaving as she feels, but it’s bittersweet at best.

 

Regina looks down at her latest pile of cards and back up at Emma, her eyes sad and her lips pouting.  Emma finds she would be willing to do just about anything to get her grinning again. She has grown rather fond of that mischievous glint in Regina’s eyes during their little game.  She’s curious what other things provoke Regina’s wild competitive streak. She has a feeling that it’s most things and she wants the time to discover each and every one of them.

 

When Henry had suggested a card game to fill the time, Regina had been happy to go along with it.  Emma thinks she would have been excited to be included in anything with both of them, but she might be getting ahead of herself.  She had been less pleased when Emma suggested they play Egyptian rat screw and Henry had quickly agreed.

 

‘There are worse games, Regina,’ had not helped her at all, and Regina had looked at her like she was daring Emma to even mention strip poker.  Emma hadn’t risen to the bait, which was probably wise, though she was becoming enamored with the woman’s snark.

 

But then Regina ends up wiping the floor with both their asses after only one game of learning the rules.  There is taunting and aggressive hand slapping and shameless hooting whenever she wins a particularly large pile of cards.

 

There is one spectacularly vicious moment when Henry had whined that she was supposed to be on his side because she was his mother.  She shot back that he was thirteen and it was about time he learned to defend himself. But there had been that happy shine to her eyes and Emma is positive she let him win that next pile when it was easily hers.

 

In those playful moments together, it had been easy to forget that they only had a couple of hours of layover time left.  That whatever companionship they had found in each other was temporary.

 

It is over now, as the agent calls for first class passengers to begin the boarding process.

 

And Emma Swan, who learned so early in her life that she can’t afford to hold on to anything, doesn’t want to let go.  She doesn’t want to let go of this family who had welcomed her into their lives so easily. Or Henry’s joy and passion, or the way Regina smiles at her.  She doesn’t want to let go of this curious feeling that there might be something between them that Emma finds herself wanting to explore more with every passing moment.

 

“Do we have to go, Mom?” Henry asks, voicing what neither of them feel able to say but want to more than anything.  “Can’t we like, give up our seats and change to Emma’s flight?”

 

The possibility hadn’t even crossed Emma’s mind.  It gives her a moment of hope until Regina’s frown dashes it all over again.

 

“I can check I suppose,” she says.  She tries to give Henry a reassuring smile, then sighs.  “But hers is the last flight at the end of the holidays. It’s probably full.”  She does her best to sound reasonable, but the tinge of sadness is impossible to miss.  “And we both have very full days tomorrow that we can’t delay them for a mere few extra hours in someone’s company.  Even if said company is wonderful.”

 

The smile Regina gives her is down right wistful and Emma knows she is going to keep a hold of this moment.  No matter what happens. If this is the last time she gets to see them, she is going to lock that smile away in her memory forever.  Regina Mills thinks she’s wonderful.

 

Neither of them want to end the eye contact.  Emma hopes that Regina is feeling that same curious sensation of rightness that she has felt all evening.  She thinks she must, but she doesn’t know how to voice it without bringing up bullshit like soulmates and fairytales.  She can easily imagine the kind of eye roll Regina would give her for that kind of nonsense.

 

When they manage to tear their eyes away from each other, they find Henry looking resigned, his head lowered and possibly seconds away from actually crying.  It spurs Regina on. She looks between her little boy and the dwindling line at the check in counter and gets a resolved look on her face that Emma finds far more attractive than she probably should.  Her eyes narrowed in thought and her lips disappearing into a thin line.

 

“I’ll go check, just to be sure,” she says, lifting up his chin like Emma saw her do on the plane before they met.  It remains something that she isn’t quite sure what to think of, but the sympathy in Regina’s eyes as she searches her son’s face leaves her feeling warm.  “But please don’t get your hopes up. Maybe you should say your goodbyes while I’m doing this, so we can be ready to go.”

 

She kisses his forehead before standing up.  Henry nods slowly as she turns to leave.

 

“Thanks, Mom,” he says to her retreating form.  

 

Emma watches her go, hoping she’ll have time for a goodbye from Regina as well.

 

Henry is picking up his cards by the time Emma convinces herself that it’s a bit melodramatic for her to continue to stand there and watch Regina stand in line.  She huffs and grabs a couple of cards that have scattered off to the side.

 

“I’m really glad I met you, Kid,” she says.  “Today was a really great day because of you and your mom.”

 

“As great as the day you got to meet Obama?”

 

Emma laughs.

 

“Maybe not quite that good, but it’s definitely up there.”  She ruffles his hair when he grabs his backpack and stands. “You should ask your mom to take you to one of my home games again.  I have a feeling you could persuade her to go.”

 

They both look towards the counter to see Regina waiting impatiently in line, wringing her hands.  It’s all kinds of adorable and makes Emma smile in spite of everything.

 

“I think you might be right.”  He smiles thoughtfully. “Do you think you’ll recognize us if you saw us there?”

 

“Oh, without a doubt, Kid,” she says.  She grins at him and ruffles his hair again, then laughs when he grumbles at her.  “You know what to do. Come down the stands near the entrance to the field after the game and I’ll come say hi.”

 

“And then I can finally have something for you to sign!”

 

“I’d be happy to sign anything for you.  Actually, if your mom is alright with giving me your address, maybe I could send you something?”

 

“Send me…” Henry starts, looking pensive.  He runs off towards Regina before finishing his thought.

 

Emma laughs as she watches him go; sprinting through seats and then bouncing from foot to foot once he gets to his mother.  She can practically hear his “Please! Please! Please!” from here. The endless energy of children will always fascinate her.

 

She winks when Regina grins over at her.  By the time Regina nods her approval, Henry is already on his way back.

 

“Phone?” is the first thing out of his mouth as he holds his hand out expectantly.  She snorts, wondering how Regina would respond to this display of enthusiasm. “She’s okay with it,” he says.  He smiles brightly up at her as she hands it over, then gets to work entering their information.

 

‘Regina and Henry Mills,’ it reads.  ‘108 Mifflin Street. Storybrooke, ME 04915.’  There’s a phone number too and Emma raises an eyebrow at the addition that she doubts went through his mother.

 

Henry merely shrugs, but there’s a satisfied look on his face like he knows he’s getting away with something.

 

“Just in case you’re ever in town again,” he says.  Emma doesn’t doubt that he would be an excellent tour guide.  Her mind quickly flits to other possibilities. Like calling to ask Regina out on a date.  “Or if you ever need to go over strategy.”

 

“You’ll be the first person I call for either of those things,” Emma assures him.  She wonders briefly how things could be if the talks this week go well and she ends up in Portland for the foreseeable future.  How close would she be to Storybrooke? Surely she would have time off now and again that would allow her to visit? She doesn’t want to believe her time with the Millses really ends here, but she doesn’t want any of them to get their hopes up either.  That would only make things hurt more in the long run.

 

But an autograph in the mail is something she can promise.

 

Looking up again, she sees that Regina has finally gotten to the counter.  Her frown deepens and it makes Emma’s heart sink. She can tell that it’s almost time to say goodbye, but there might be one more thing to make sure Henry won’t get on that plane feeling depressed.

 

“What about some selfies?” she asks.  Henry looks up at her like she’s offering him her gold medal.

 

His phone is out and on the camera setting fast enough to make her wonder if it’s permanently attached to his hand.

 

The first few shots are a kind of wonderful disaster.  Henry rushes in his excitement and they wind up with an assortment of outtakes: her face half off the screen, and then it’s a blur as Henry pulls her closer, and finally one of Henry pouting adorably because they can’t seem to get anything good.

 

They do though.  Several shots of their goofy faces smooshed together, grinning like mad and their eyes crinkling.  They even get a couple with the soccer ball on Emma’s phone that she promises to post to twitter if Regina allows it.

 

“I’ll finally be internet famous!” he says.  He’s trying to get them into a pose which Emma isn’t sure will work with either of them holding the phone.  It doesn’t help that she can’t stop laughing.

 

When Regina returns to find them laughing together, it makes her smile, but it doesn’t alleviate the sadness in her eyes.

 

“Before you say anything, you have to come take selfies with us,” Emma insists.

 

“Please!” Henry says, adding his plea to the cause.  They both turn their best puppy eyes on her.

 

“Since you’re both being so polite about it,” she says, sarcasm dripping.  But her smile softens. “I don’t think I can resist those kinds of demands.”

 

Regina fits easily into frame next to her son.  Her phone is probably full to bursting with pictures of the two of them together over the years.  Their home must be full of photographs too. Emma is left wondering, not for the first time, what life at 108 Mifflin Street is like.

 

Her earlier game with Henry has her mind racing with thoughts of a back yard, no doubt large enough for a net, where they could spend their free time playing together.  How much fun it would be to drag Regina into their little scrimmages.  Emma has never really put much thought into the idea of having kids before, more than content to know she had hundreds of them who she could teach and inspire from afar.  She can see herself getting attached to this one though.  She thinks, if she had a family like this, she might finally understand the joy of having a home.  Might want that, instead of just a place where her things live that she comes back to when she's not traveling. 

 

The touch of Regina's fingers meeting hers on Henry's back doesn't allow her to linger in her thoughts for long.  The here and now includes a soft hand, warm and gentle against her own.  It's a fleeting present she wouldn't dare exchange for even the most wonderful of daydreams. 

 

She sees herself smiling on Henry’s phone. Both of them grinning like before while Regina smiles serenely next to them, looking gorgeous in ways Emma doesn’t know how to deal with.  Looking happy and comfortable. And Emma really hopes that she is.

 

“Mine next!” she hears herself saying.  She shoves her phone into Henry’s hand with a frantic feeling of need.

 

He looks at her with an odd sort of smile.  Far too knowing. But he takes the picture without a word.

 

“Come on, we should get going,” Regina says a moment later.  It should ruin the comfortable feeling that has washed over them when they started taking selfies, but it doesn’t.  The spell holds strong as Emma turns her head to watch Regina fussing over her son. She runs her fingers through his hair and straightens the backpack on his shoulders.

 

It isn’t until Regina steps away to grab her carry on and purse that the enchantment lifts and Emma knows it is time for farewells.

 

Henry turns and has himself wrapped around Emma’s waist before she knows what’s happening.  She is quick to catch on though and bends at the knees to hold onto him tightly.

 

“I don’t want this to be goodbye,” Henry whispers in her ear.  His voice is muffled but she can still make out the crack in his voice.  The sound makes her throat clench painfully and she squeezes him impossibly tighter.

 

“I don’t think it will be, Kid,” she whispers back.  

 

She can hear the tightness in her own voice as well.  Feels her chest constrict with how much she doesn’t want to let Henry go.  The thought of him and his mom stepping onto that plane has her eyes welling up, but there is no way she’s going to let herself cry in the middle of an airport.

 

Running her fingers through his hair like she’d seen Regina do back on the airplane is grounding.  It’s comforting in a way she never would have imagined.

 

Finally able to pull in a full breath again, Emma turns her head so her cheek is pressed against the top of Henry’s head.  When she opens her eyes, it’s to find Regina standing just a few steps away. Those beautiful brown eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.

 

Henry looks up at her and they both take a step back.

 

"Don't forget about the... you know," he says, miming holding a phone with absolutely no subtlety.

 

She thinks most people probably cower when faced with Regina lifting her eyebrow at them in such a way, but all Emma can manage is to look a little sheepish.

 

"As long as you promise to behave for your mom," Emma says.  "And score a few goals for me."

 

"You got it, boss!"

 

He grins and holds out his fist.  Emma bumps it with her own and follows him as he pulls back, wiggling his fingers and making exploding sounds.

 

When she turns to Regina, she tries her best not to seem too eager, but her mind is spinning with the possibility of hugging this beautiful woman who has become so much more than that for her in such a short time.  

 

“Miss Swan.”  The formality stops Emma short, but she doesn’t even have time to glare before Regina is rolling her eyes at herself.  “Emma,” she corrects, and it’s so soft that Emma wants to sink into it. Wants to record it so she can wrap herself up in the sound every night as she falls asleep.  “I’m really glad we met you today.”

 

“Me too,” Emma says.  She can’t think of what else to say.  Or, she wants to say far too many things and doesn’t know which would be appropriate.  There is no way any of them are appropriate.

 

She smiles.  Takes a step forward.  And then Regina’s hand is extended between them and it takes Emma’s brain a moment to work out that it’s there to shake hers.

 

A hand shake.

 

Is it weird to ask for a hug?  Is it weird that she wanted one at all?  Of course it's stupid of her to think that a few hours together entitles her to that kind of contact with a woman she doesn't actually know all that well.  They may have held hands a number of times now, but a hug is an entirely different kind of intimacy.

 

She's about to take the offered hand when she notices Regina looking past her shoulder, that eyebrow up again.

 

Looking around, she realizes that Henry is standing right behind her, off to her side just enough for his mother to clearly see him gesturing at Emma and mouthing ' _hug her!_ '  All of it with an absurd amount of drama, of course.

 

The instant he sees Emma watching, wide-eyed, he clamps his mouth shut.  Hands now firmly clasped behind his back, he turns on his heel and walks off.

 

Honestly, this kid.

 

When she looks away from Henry, Regina is smiling shyly at her.

 

“Would you like a hug?”

 

 _I would love one_ , almost comes rushing out of her mouth.  Instead she smiles back, nods, and says, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

 

Nothing from Emma’s recent daydreaming could have prepared her for how it feels to be wrapped in Regina’s arms.  She brings her arms around a soft, slender waist, pulling Regina close as arms encircle her. Strong hands clutch at the back of her shirt and nothing in the world could loosen their hold until Regina is good and ready to let go.

 

Thoughts swirl around Emma’s head again as she tries to work out what to say.  This feels like a moment for grand declarations, or even simple whispered promises like she’d had with Henry.  ‘I could fall in love with you so easily,’ sits on her tongue, but she swallows it down. Even something as small as ‘Thank you’ seems like too much, because she knows Regina would ask her why and she doesn’t know what that answer might be.

 

The silence is comfortable though.  It’s easy for Emma to relax into the embrace once she realizes that Regina expects nothing from her beyond this touch, whether she’s having similar thoughts to Emma or not.  So she lets herself relax; her hands slipping lower, her head resting on Regina’s shoulder.

 

Regina’s warm breath tickles against her neck, and Emma wonders how much power a wish would have to contain for Regina to move that tiny bit of distance to kiss her there.

 

Goosebumps run up Emma’s arms.  A whimper catches in the back of her throat.  She bites back the urge to bring her hands lower still.  The desire to know what it would feel like to run her hands over Regina’s ass, to bring their bodies flush together where everything is now only touching lightly, is suddenly overwhelming.

 

But now is not the time, and an airport is certainly not the place.  She takes a deep breath, letting the warm scent of Regina’s perfume rush through her one last time, and breaks the hug.

 

Fingers circle Emma’s biceps as they pull apart.  Regina gives her a small smile and squeezes her arms gently.

 

“Wow,” she breathes.  Her face morphs into surprise, her eyes wide.  She squeezes Emma’s arms again, more firmly this time.  Emma chuckles. “Oh god. I’m so sorry. I’ve just...kind of been thinking about doing that since we were on the plane, but I never intended to actually do it.”

 

Her face flushes.  Emma chuckles again but flexes her arms under Regina’s grip.  

 

“Wow,” Regina says again.  It comes out lower this time and Emma’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead.  But with one final, lingering squeeze, Regina finally lets go and takes a step back.  Her eyes are a bit darker when she smiles sadly. “We should get going. Bye Emma.”

 

"Bye Regina," she says as she waves at both of them.

 

She watches as Regina puts an arm around Henry's shoulders and tugs him close, peeking behind her to give Emma one last smile before they walk off together.  She doesn't move as they show their tickets to board their flight. Then they turn to wave one last time before stepping onto the ramp and out of sight.

 

***

 

She unlocks her phone when she's back in her seat, trying to not be desperate enough to stare at their plane until it takes off down the runway.  Instead she opens her phone’s gallery. She didn’t have the chance to see how any of the photos turned out while they were taking them and is hit by a wave of anxiety that none of them turned out well.  The most recent picture makes her pause.

 

Not only did it turn out beautifully, but she doesn’t even remember taking it.  She remembers the moment perfectly. She remembers feeling overwhelmed at how content Regina looked making sure Henry was all put together.  That this was routine and she had somehow fallen into it. Regina’s fingers are brushing Henry’s bangs, trying to get them to sit correctly while he looks directly into the camera with a long suffering expression.

 

Her laughter dies before it gets past her lips.  Because that's when her eyes land on her own face in the picture.

 

The sight has her heart speeding up and her chest feeling light enough that she thinks she might float away.

 

Emma has had her fair share of girlfriends, even if most of them hadn't lasted longer than a few months.  She's been in enough to have plenty of sappy photographs. Posed shots in photo booths, candid shots taken by friends, the occasional selfie.  The point is, she knows that look on her face well, has seen it dozens of times.

 

Henry had perfectly captured her looking at his mother with so much adoration that it shocks her to see it now.

 

Not that she's entirely surprised at the warmth in her eyes or the soft upturn of her lips or the way her whole face looks like she's about to melt.  She has felt that way all evening. It's something else to see it so blatantly right in front of her own eyes though.

 

She wants desperately to set it as the background on her phone, but immediately dismisses the idea.  Not only is it ridiculous, but she has no idea what she’d say if someone asked her about it. The next best idea comes to her and she saves a copy so she can crop herself out and save it as their contact image.  That’s far less weird, surely.

 

The rest of the pictures turned out just as well.  She wishes she could text him to let him know that he has the makings of a stellar photographer to go along with his soccer star potential.  There’s a particular one, just the two of them and her soccer ball, that has her smiling fondly.

 

That’s the one she puts on twitter.  The caption reads simply: ‘Met a great fan today! #uswnt #futuresoccerstar’.  She knows it doesn’t convey nearly how attached she’s grown to this fan, but she likes to think he knows.

 

By the time she gets to her hotel hours later, it’s acquired hundreds of likes and a handful of retweets.  It doesn’t take too long for her to find the ones she was looking for. Henry’s retweet is easy to find. The notification comes with a quote: ‘I TOLD YOU I MET HER YOU GUYS!!!!’  She can hear his excited voice perfectly and she grins through her exhaustion. When she clicks through to it, there are a dozen more likes and replies of amazed disbelief from his friends.

 

The other notification is quieter, but more surprising and does nothing to diminish her bright smile.

 

It’s only a like from the twitter account ‘storybrookemayor.’


	3. two months later

She walks down to the kitchen and finds Henry looking gloomily into his cereal, pushing bits of frosted flakes around in the milk without thought. Asking him what has him in such a mood is unnecessary. It has been almost two months since that amazing plane ride and they haven’t heard a word from Emma.

 

She tries not to think about it too much.  Tries not to think about why that day is something her mind drifts to whenever she’s not swamped with being a mayor or being a mother - and sometimes during those busy moments as well.  It’s easy to understand why Henry grows more despondent each day there’s not a package waiting from him when he gets home from school or playing with his friends.  It would be easy to claim that her reason for sharing his sadness is only that her son is sad.

 

It would also be a big fat lie.

 

One she won't let herself linger on. 

 

“Sweetheart,” she starts, sitting down next to him and putting her hand on his shoulder.

 

That he doesn’t pull away makes her hopeful, but the way he seems to slump under her touch causes her heart to clench.

 

“She’s probably forgotten all about us,” he says.  He pushes his half eaten cereal away and sinks into his chair.  “She was so cool and nice and she acted like she actually liked me and we might mean something more than just some random fans she ran into at the airport.  That’s all we were though, wasn’t it?”

 

Regina takes a deep breath, trying to buy herself a bit of time.  She needs to word this correctly. She doesn’t want to take away a thirteen year old’s idol and role model, someone who clearly motivates him and gives him more love for this sport that has become so important to him. And though she understands why he’s upset, there’s far more to this than that.

 

Turning his chair a little to face her more, Regina lifts his chin gently so he will hopefully understand that she’s coming at this from a place of love.

 

“I know it hurts to feel forgotten, Henry, I really do.”  Far more than she was willing to admit. “But remember how we’ve talked about not being able to know everything going on in another person’s mind or all the things they’re doing?”

 

He nods, because they had talked about this very thing only a few weeks ago when he and Jacinda had gotten into a fight right before break and gone the entire week before Christmas not talking to each other.  He pouts, unsure where his mother is going with this but doubting he’ll like it very much, but he also sits up a little straighter in his chair.

 

“This is even more true for someone like Emma.  I know it’s easy to feel like you know everything about her because you’ve read all her interviews and her book and you follow her on twitter," she says, stroking his chin.  Emma's book hadn't come up until a week after they'd met her, when Henry came into her study to hand her a decent sized, well worn hardback.  Those iconic red cleats adorned the cover; she didn't need to glance at the author to know what this was, though even now she only vaguely remembers buying it for him the year before.  As she flipped through the pages, he explained quietly how it had gotten him passed so many of his lingering uncertainties about being adopted, that Emma had been happy to learn how much it meant to him.  She hadn't needed to read very far into the book to understand why, as Emma's words spoke earnestly of her youth.  And while Henry barely stopped talking about their conversation that first month after, that was the only time he mentioned them talking about the book.  She hopes he still holds that memory close, no matter how he might be feeling about Emma currently.  "She's still a celebrity Henry.  She's just a person.  And one who doesn't know us very well."

 

“I know she’s a person, duh,” he says, rolling his eyes.  But after he huffs out a breath, he’s pensive, taking a moment to mull things over.  “I’m just sad. And a little disappointed, I guess. She seemed so excited about sending me things.”

 

“I very much doubt that she was pretending, and I’d like to think she’s still planning on sending you a gift.  But she’s a very busy woman and there were a lot of uncertain things going on in her life when she met us.”

 

“Yeah, they made the announcement about her team a couple of weeks ago.  It really sucks,” he says. It makes him grumpy again and he kicks the table leg.  Regina clucks her tongue at him for it but he doesn’t respond. “Now we’ll have to go all the way to New Jersey just to see a game too, so that’s less likely to happen.  I wonder who she’ll end up playing for. There hasn’t been any news about where any of the Boston players will end up yet.”

 

Regina remembers how excited Emma had been at the possibility of getting to help start up a whole new team.  She remembers the unfamiliar feeling of elation that had coursed through her at the prospect of Emma moving to Portland, of all places.  She hadn’t known what to make of that feeling at the time. She still doesn’t, not really. But the memory of that embrace, of how safe and wanted she had felt in Emma’s arms, gives her an idea of what she wants that feeling to mean.

 

The possibility of Emma still fills her with warmth sometimes, when she allows herself to stop and remember.  The thought of it all makes her smile in spite of Henry’s grumbling.

 

She is too lost in thought to notice Henry looking at her with narrowed eyes.

 

“You know something, don’t you,” he says, sounding certain of this new truth he has uncovered.  There is no question in his voice, only a needling desire to ferret out whatever his mother is keeping from him.

 

“I know absolutely nothing,” she says.  She tries her best to keep a straight face.  She doubts she succeeds; Henry has gotten too skilled at reading her over the years.  “How on earth would I know more about Emma Swan’s professional life than her biggest fan?”

 

A couple of years ago, such a comment would have had Henry stomping away with the words ‘Evil Queen’ thrown over his shoulder shortly before slamming his bedroom door.  They have come far enough now that Henry only spends a few moments searching her face with critical eyes. The grin that spreads slowly across his face has Regina worried.

 

“You probably know everything because she _likes_ you.”  He says it like they’re a couple of girls in his class with silly crushes.

 

He may not be wrong, but she is not at all ready to admit that out loud yet.  To her child of all people.

 

Her glare has become far too ineffective because it only seems to confirm all of Henry’s theories.

 

“Alright, maybe she did tell me some things,” she allows.  She wrings her hands and sets them reassuringly against her stomach.  “She told me about her team disbanding and we may have talked a bit about her prospects and what she wanted to do next.  But I’m not allowed to say, Henry.”

 

“But Mom,” he whines.  “What good is it to have a mom who knows things when you won’t tell me?”

 

She rolls her eyes, not wanting reward that kind of behavior with a response.  She hopes it isn’t a serious question anyway.

 

“Do you know what a confidant is?”  He nods, but seems a little uncertain.  Regina doubts it’s a word he’s had much use for in any practical way at this point.  “She told me these things in confidence, knowing I wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even my beloved son.  She trusted me to keep her secret. Can you understand why I can’t break that trust?”

 

“Is it because you like her?”

 

“I… suppose that’s a part of it, yes.  But it was also because I could tell she needed to talk and I was someone who would listen without having anything to get out of knowing the information beyond making a new friend.”

 

“You consider her your friend?”

 

Regina looks him over, giving the question real thought.  Ideally, she knows she wants so much more than friendship with Emma.  She doesn’t know how Emma feels though, not really. Not when they only had a few brief, wonderful hours together and it is very likely that Regina read far too much into their every interaction.  Could she be happy being friends with Emma, if the opportunity was there?

 

“I think so,” she answers.  “At least, I’d be happy if we could be friends.”

 

“ _Girlfriends_?” he asks in a teasing tone.

 

She gasps and prods him in the gut until they’re both laughing.

 

“Who taught you to be such a brat?”

 

“You did!”

 

***

 

It’s almost a week later when the doorbell rings while they’re in the kitchen, Regina making dinner while Henry works on algebra.  It has been a good week, especially compared to the last few. Regina isn’t sure if the improvement is due to their talk or because Henry’s team won their weekend game and had a great week of practices.

 

Either way, it has been pleasant to have Henry bouncing through the house again, talking her ear off about sports and the experiment he started with Jacinda for the upcoming science fair.

 

And he's wearing the Mbappé jersey that he had begged her to get him for Christmas 'because Emma said he's a male player I'd probably like a lot, and she was totally right!  He's so amazing, Mom!'  It had been his most cherished present, but she saw it less and less the more time went on without hearing from Emma.  It makes her smile to see him wearing it again.

 

“Did you forget to tell me you invited friends over again?” Regina asks over her shoulder where Henry works at the kitchen table.

 

Henry merely shrugs, too absorbed in his homework to care when he’s clearly not expecting anyone.  She sighs, puts down the cumin and wipes her hands.

 

“I’ll go check.  If this starts to boil, please stir it, turn down the flame and put the lid on so it can simmer.”

 

She knows he heard her, but the last time she left him with their dinner cooking without verbal confirmation was disastrous.  The doorbell rings again at the same time as her prodding, “Henry.” And it seems to do the trick.

 

“Boil, stir, simmer,” he repeats.  “Got it.”

 

He doesn’t look up from his work, but she nods on her way out of the kitchen anyway.  She doesn’t expect this will take long, but in her time as mayor, she has learned that far too many small town citizens lack any understanding of boundaries.  Or office hours. Or the concept of email.

 

When she opens the door to find a woman in a postal uniform holding two packages, she’s at once grateful and confused.  This means there is no risk of her stew boiling over on Henry’s watch but also, since when did USPS ever ring twice instead of leaving the package or a note.  And this far into the evening as well.

 

“Regina Mills?” the woman asks, not picking up on any of Regina’s conflicting thoughts.

 

“That’s me,” she says.  She gently takes the packages from the woman’s hands and sets them aside when offered an electronic signature pad.  “Do you usually wait for someone to answer the door?” she asks as she signs and hands it back.

 

“It was a rush delivery with directions to make sure it was given to you by tonight, ma’am.”

 

“Well, thank you for your diligence then,” Regina says with a genuine smile.  She closes the door as the woman walks back down the front steps, then she turns her attention to the packages.

 

They aren’t very large and have a humble look about them for something that someone went through such trouble to make sure she received.  One is a long, narrow cardboard tube and the other is an average-sized padded yellow envelope stuffed with something pillowy. She scans the latter, seeing her and Henry’s names printed neatly on the label.

 

Looking up for the return address, Regina’s breath catches.

 

It’s from Emma Swan.  And the address is in Portland, Maine.

 

A beaming smile stretches across her face.  She holds her hand to her chest as if to keep her pounding heart in its place.  It feels like it might burst through her ribcage at the thought.

 

Emma here.  In Maine. Mere miles from them.

 

“Emma,” she whispers, the word barely leaving her lips as she traces her fingers reverently over the package.  She blinks and wants to laugh at herself for this silliness. Henry may have been onto something when he accused her of ‘crushing hard’ a couple of days ago.

 

“Henry,” she calls out, still in the foyer.

 

“I’m stirring like you asked!” he calls back.

 

She chuckles, walking into the kitchen to see that he is indeed standing over the pot, spoon in hand. He lowers the burner and puts the lid on before turning to her.  It doesn’t take long for his eyes to fall on Regina’s bounty.

 

“I didn’t doubt you,” she assures.  Then she holds out the gifts. “I believe you’ve been expecting these.”

 

His mouth drops open as he looks between the packages and his mother.

 

“These are from?”  He can’t seem to bring himself to say her name, as if voicing it might shatter whatever dream he’s having.

 

She can only nod.

 

“Don’t you want to see what she sent?” she asks, prompting him when he continues to simply stand there and look at her.

 

That’s all it takes.  He springs forward and grabs one of the packages from her.  Regina is left with the cardboard tube as he tears into the other.  She watches as he rips right through Emma’s address. She frowns until she turns the other in her hands to find the vital information still fully intact there.

 

“What in the world?” Henry says in wonder as he pulls out two jerseys.  A white envelope falls out from where the shirts had been folded together.  Regina picks it up to put it and the other package on the counter for now.

 

One jersey is a solid dark purple while the other has vertical white and dark purple stripes.  The back of the first, turned toward Regina, reads ‘SWAN 8’ in bold white lettering.

 

"Oh my god!" Henry gasps, turning the jerseys over in his hands and seeing the name.  His mouth continues to hang open and he turns them back around to inspect a logo on the front that Regina can't make out.  He frowns in thought.  "But this doesn't make any sense.  These aren't from any team in the NWSL.  Who is she playing for?"

 

Smiling, Regina holds up the letter.  "Maybe you should read this first."

 

He yelps as he drops the jerseys in his haste to grab the letter.  She can tell how much they mean to him when even in his excitement, he stops to pick them up and fold them haphazardly before setting them aside.  The envelop gets none of that reverence as he tosses it over his shoulder after removing the letter, too enthralled in Emma's words to even notice to two slips of paper that fall out of it.

 

Watching him read it is a treat all its own.  She can be sure of at least some of what it might say and can tell when he gets to the especially good bits as his eyes get wider and wider and lets out the occasional gasp or squeal.

 

"You knew!" he yells when he's finished, pointing the letter at her in astonishment.  "How were you able to keep this all to yourself for so long?"

 

She smiles gently at him, taking the letter back and opening it.

 

"Believe me Henry, I wanted to tell you so badly," she says.  He comes to stand next to her, wanting to read the letter again over her shoulder, and she runs her fingers through his hair.  "Especially as I watched you get more and more upset.  She didn't know if the team would actually be created when she told me about it, but she was hopeful.  And so was I.  And every day I wanted to share that with you to reassure you that everything would turn out alright."

 

"I believe you," he says into her shoulder, and her smile widens with that knowledge.  Then he nudges her side.  "You should read it."

 

_Dear Henry and Regina,_

 

_I hope you can forgive my lateness with your promised gifts, and that this finds your indoor season going well.  It’s been pretty hectic recently and there were a lot of unknowns. I thought about sending the poster and letter as soon as my move was finalized, because I feel like I can trust you with the secret I’m about to tell you until it was made public.  But I wasn’t able to get my hands on these jerseys until very recently and I wanted you to have them. I’m very fond of the away jersey and I think you will like it, though the solid purple seemed more your Mom’s style._

 

_The Maine Royals FC is officially the newest team in the National Women’s Soccer League and I’m assistant captain!  You’ll be happy to know that Mulan is joining me as captain. They couldn’t keep us apart now that we’ve started playing together again.  And the team is based in Portland, so that should be a lot easier for you to get to games than before._

 

_There are two tickets with this letter, so make sure you don’t accidentally throw those out.  They’re for our home opener, March 27th, which is hopefully far enough away that you don’t have any other plans.  Or you can get out of them. I’d really love to see you both there. I know having you cheer me on will definitely make me play better!  And if any of your friends want to come as well, please let me know in the next few weeks and I can get them tickets too._

 

_I still think about our little holiday adventure often.  I’m not sure I can express how much that day with you both meant to me, so hopefully this does somewhat.  I wanted to bring them myself, but I’m in the middle of moving now that we’re back in the country, and practice starts this weekend.  News of the team should go public tomorrow, so you only have a night to keep all of this to yourself._

 

_Yours always,_

_Emma_

 

 

‘She thinks about us,’ is the first thought that goes through Regina’s mind.  Most of Emma’s news is, of course, simply confirmation of the possibilities that had been shared with her months ago.  She lingers over the words while Henry excitedly takes off one jersey so he can try on the new one.

 

The two of them meant something to Emma, even now.

 

She had felt it then.  Opening up to strangers has never been one of Regina’s strong points.  Around Emma though, it felt so natural. When Emma opened up to her, she’d felt unable to resist responding in the same fashion.  And while the hope has been there all along that Emma felt that special bond between them as well, that nagging thought in the back of Regina’s mind - that she was only fooling herself - has been there as well.

 

‘I still think about our adventure’ quickly becomes ‘I still think about you.’  It swirls around and around in Regina’s head, making her dizzy. Making her giddy.  The ‘us’ Emma has been thinking of becomes not just Regina and Henry, but Emma along with them, together.  The three of them a unit. A family, maybe.

 

She sets the letter aside before she spirals any further into this outrageous fantasy.  She has to pull herself together. She knows it would be so easy to get lost in the idea of them, when there is still no real proof anywhere in the letter about Emma’s feelings towards Regina specifically; only that she had enjoyed Henry’s (and only by extension, Regina’s) company.

 

She looks back up at her son and laughs.  He twirls around for her, showing off his stripes.  The jersey is at least a full size too big for him, especially in the shoulders, but Regina knows that it won’t take long for him to grow into it.  He has already had one growth spurt, the next one can’t be far off.

 

“You should try on yours too,” he says, holding it out for her.

 

She snatches it up and gives it a dubious look.

 

“I’ll go change into it if you really must see how it looks.”  He nods rapidly. She smiles and hands him the still untouched package.  “Why don’t you open this while I’m gone. Be more careful about the address this time!”

 

She only goes as far as the downstairs bathroom, doubting she’ll need her full length mirror, and quickly unbuttons her blouse.  She’s just slipping the jersey over her head when she hears an ecstatic squeal from the kitchen. Not wanting to linger too long here when she desperately wants to see what Henry has opened, she gives herself a brief once over in the mirror.

 

Emma is correct that the color looks good on her.  Though she looks good in most dark colors, she has always been rather fond of purple.  It’s a bit tight in the chest, but she supposes it was made with the assumption that it would be worn with a sports bra.  It’s not form fitting like her work clothes, and she would hardly consider it ‘her style,’ but she thinks she might learn to enjoy that.  It's only then that she notices the logo above the left breast.  A circular badge of purple with white and gold circles inside surrounding a crown of gold decked out with red and purple gems.  Any lingering doubt that she belongs in this jersey wash away as she smiles.  It does suit her.  And to hell with anyone who might tell her it doesn't.

 

What has her smiling into the mirror though, far more than any imagined rebellion against her mother or her small town's need to see her a certain way, is the thought that Emma had been thinking about what Regina might like.  Not only that, but maybe, possibly, (hopefully), she had even spent time thinking about what Regina would look like wearing this.  Her smile slips into a smirk as she turns away from the mirror.

 

“What else did she send then?” she asks as she walks into the kitchen to the sound of giggling.

 

He turns his grin from the poster to his mom.

 

“It’s a photo of her taking the shot for the only goal in the quarter finals of the 2015 World Cup,” he explains.  Then he holds the poster out for her to see.

 

Regina’s jaw drops.

 

There’s Emma, all in white (save for her iconic red cleats), her foot about to connect with the ball in front of her.  She recognizes the red Chinese jerseys on the two defenders behind her, both a few steps away, unable to keep up with her.  Her form is beautiful. And she is gorgeous.

 

Their time together two months ago had not prepared her for this, nor had all the youtube videos of game highlights Regina has been watching on her laptop since then.  This isn’t Emma dressed comfortable for a day on a plane and lazing around an airport. This is Emma shining her brightest; her face a serene kind of focus, her muscles at peak performance.  

 

“Mom, don’t be weird,” Henry says, peeking around the side of the poster to look at her.

 

It’s then she notices that her eyes are lingering over the way Emma’s shorts ride up, showing off her thighs.  The way her jersey clings to her abs with sweat. She feels her face heat up as she looks away and clears her throat.

 

“That’s a very nice poster, Henry,” she says at last.

 

“Did you even notice that she signed it?”  He moves the poster closer to her, assuming correctly that she barely noticed a thing beyond those thighs.

 

“What?”  

 

But her eyes move to the side and she sees it, silver sharpie against dark green grass.  Now she understands what had Henry giggling when she first came in. She blushes again.

 

“She’s ridiculous,” she says to more of Henry’s giggles.  She reads it over again and rolls her eyes.

 

‘Henry,

Since your mom didn’t recognize me, I figured you were missing one of these for your room.  Keep kicking ass!

Emma Swan’

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [flying feels like falling (when i close my eyes) // art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812304) by [reginamea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginamea/pseuds/reginamea)




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